Saving Sherlock
by xMissWhitneyBexx
Summary: John's depressed. Sherlock's bewildered. Molly's stressed and Mrs Hudson is none the wiser. When Rosie becomes sick and someone close announces life-changing news, Sherlock finds himself wanting to bond with the child and... save all that are necessary to him.
1. Watching the Minutes Tick By

**Hello, I am Bex and this is technically my second Sherlock story but I will be mainly focusing on this one.**

 **I kind of have a direction with this. It's mainly based on Season 4 so it will kind of be spoiler related but it will coincide with all episodes, especially the recent one. So enjoy.**

* * *

 _Save John Watson,_ plagued Sherlock's mind as he sat quietly on his leather chair, facing the street before him.

 _It would help if I knew of his whereabouts, Mary...,_ Sherlock thought. Sherlock obviously knew that he would easily find John but he had a feeling that maybe John didn't want to be found. The letter proved so and his distance away from Rosie also proved so.

It had only been a week and a half since Mary's death and in that time, since the funeral, Sherlock had seen John only once. He had also seen Rosie only once; in the arms of Molly.

His phone chimed and Sherlock looked at it, laid on his desk.

 ** _You have one new message from: Molly Hooper_**

He picked it up, scanning the message quickly.

 **Rosie's sick. We're at the hospital. Can't get hold of John.**

Sherlock's heart sank as Mrs Hudson placed a cup of tea in front of him.

"I won't be needing that at all now," he said, calling for a taxi. "I've got somewhere I have to be."

"Oh? Are you going to talk to John? See little Rosie?" She asked, taking the tea for herself.

Sherlock glanced at her, his phone on his ear. "I will be back late." He simply replied, standing up. "Don't wait up."

She chuckled. "Do I ever?"

...

When Sherlock got to the hospital, he was met with a very worried Hooper whose eyes were filled with tears.

"She just stopped breathing. I didn't know what to do!" For once, her medical skills had failed her. Her mind void of her First Aid course when she was at university.

Sherlock surprised himself by bringing her in for a short hug. A comfort if you will.

A doctor appeared, giving Sherlock a tired glance. "Are you the child's father?"

" _God_ father." Sherlock replied. "Which means if anything were to happen to said child's parents, I will be responsible for the child."

"Fair enough. Any proof?" The doctor asked.

Molly wiped her tears, "I can vouch. As the godmother, I mean."

The doctor nodded, his hands gripping the medical files as his eyes scanned them.

"Meningitis. Rosamund has meningitis. According to her records, she received no vaccinations after she was born."

Molly gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she looked down in shame. _I should have looked after her better. Not take her out to the park. Oh God, we shouldn't have fed those ducks!_

Sherlock knew that it was inevitable, he wanted to assure Molly but she had already started to pace, berating herself for her actions.

"We will keep Rosamund-"

"Rosie." Sherlock cut him off. "Her name's Rosie..."

Rosamund was far too painful to hear. The woman who gave up her life to save his left one stinging memory with her daughter. Her true name.

"-Rosie under observations through the night. I highly doubt that she will be able to go home tomorrow."

Sherlock looked at Molly who was now leaning against the wall with her head in her hands.

"Is there somewhere that her godmother and I can stay to be closer to her?"

The doctor nodded. "In these circumstances, I will have an on-call room sorted for your wife and you." He said, leaving before they had a chance to deny their relationship.

Sherlock made his way over to Molly's side.

"It isn't your fault, Molly." He started. "John, Mary and I have taken her out on cases many times. It is just unfortunate that she became unwell in your care. It wouldn't be any different if she became unwell in my care, or Mrs Hudson's or even a babysitter."

Molly looked somewhat comforted by his words but his voice was terse and held a bit of... disappointment? _In me?_ , she thought.

"I hope we can find John before anything more serious happens." His voice changed again, she noticed.

 _Not me, but John..._ , she realised.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Molly said confidently. "Do you think that we can see her now?"

He turned to finally face her to give his answer. "If they won't, I'll force them to."

...

John stood in front of the cold marble stone and closed his eyes.

 _I need you, Mary. Rosie needs you. Why? Why did you save him? He's bloody Sherlock Holmes, he faked his death!_

He was angry. At Sherlock. At Mary. At... himself.

John sighed, closing his eyes as he placed a hand on the gravestone. He guessed that he understood why in some twisted way.

Sherlock was their friend. _Best friend_. But that didn't mean that she had to put her life in danger! Sherlock probably had numerous of ways to either a) dodge the bullet or b) position himself for a lesser and lower impact. She had shot him once before which had resulted in his hospitalisation and he had survived. He would do the same thing again, or better yet - fake his death.

John shook the thoughts of having his best friend die both in falsity and reality. Those were dark thoughts, Mary would have been ashamed.

 _Rosie needs her daddy...,_ John thought he was going mad when the idea suddenly plagued his mind for the first time in days.

Maybe visiting Mary's grave again gave him the strength to focus on the important things. Rosamund and stopping whatever the hell Moriarty had planned from the dead.

Turning his phone on, he was met with repeated texts from Molly but one stood out.

 ** _You have one new message from: Sherlock Holmes_**

 **Rosamund's taken unwell.**

John's heart fell as he read Molly's texts, each one increasing the worry and fear.

Luckily, she had managed to put down which children's hospital they were at in her distress.

Hailing for a cab, John found himself going to save his daughter.

...

Sherlock winced as Molly shot up from her nap, running a hand through her hair.

"Sorry," she put a hand to her mouth to cover her yawn. "I fell asleep."

He nodded and silently placed a polystyrene cup in front of her. "Decaffeinated tea."

"Hmm, thanks." She replied, taking a sip before hissing at its temperature. "Should have blew it," she scolded herself.

Sherlock sat beside her on the sofa in their provided on-call room and took a slow sip from his coffee.

"Any news?"

"No," Molly shook her head. "You?"

"None."

The echos settled and they silently sipped on their beverages, Molly being the one to anxiously check the time every now and then.

"She'll probably be asleep," Molly assured herself. "All warm, no pain."

Sherlock turned to face her, no words leaving his lips.

"This will all be alright. She'll come home and John would be none the wiser..." Molly continued. "I wouldn't have condemned the child into a life of pain..."

"Molly..."

Molly gasped, coming out of her tirade and turned to face Sherlock with wide eyes.

"I honestly believe that it was not your fault." He told her.

She scoffed, placing her cup onto the table. "You're just saying that to make me feel better. It's not working."

"It should be because it truly is not your fault, Hooper." He replied more sternly.

She raised an eyebrow at him after he addressed her as her surname. "Well, whose fault was it?"

Sherlock wanted to say nobody's but to be honest, it probably was _his_ fault. Sherlock was pretty sure that Mary had told him that Rosie had missed an appointment with the doctor when they went on another of their cases and forgot to get the babysitter in as Molly worked and Mrs Hudson went to visit some old friends.

So he stayed silent. And watched the minutes tick by with Molly.


	2. Her Father's Child

**I want to thank you all for the response :) I find it difficult to keep the characters in their natural behaviour so you guys can help me there if they get too OCC.**

* * *

John took a whiff of himself and cringed. Maybe a quick stop home would be in order.

He instructed the taxi driver to make a detour and that he will pay him for his efforts and settled back into his seat, sighing.

When he got home, he immediately went to the bathroom, stripping along the way before finally running the shower from cold to hot. As the water ran, he brushed his teeth, running his wrinkled hands through his greying hair.

 _Look at me now, Mary...,_ he thought, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth out with mouthwash.

He got into the shower, wincing as the boiling water cascaded down his body, turning the heat down to lukewarm instead.

 _I'll be there soon, Rosie. Daddy loves you._

When he was finished, he dressed in a new pair of jeans and a casual dress shirt. Spraying the cologne which Mary had said that she loved on him, John finally noticed the bags under his eyes as he stared at himself through the mirror.

He managed to drag his eyes from his appearance and checked the time. Thirty minutes he had spent cleaning himself up.

It was late, around nine-ish and John rubbed at his face, trying to stop himself from looking so _aged_.

 _Just a few minutes more, my baby girl. Daddy's coming._

As John turned to leave the bedroom, he stepped on something which squeaked.

Bending down, he collected Rosie's favourite stuffed lamb, Bambi. Smiling, he unhooked his jacket and put the toy into his pocket before slipping the jacket on.

Making his way to the front door, he heard three knocks.

"John?"

John sighed, opening the door. "Greg."

Lestrade gave a tight smile, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm sure you've heard, then? Rosie's ill and uh, Molly is at the hospital with Sherlock."

John gave a ghost of a smile. "You're here to give me a lift, huh?"

The detective inspector chuckled. "I've been watching your door for days now. When I can't, I have a plain clothes watch it. I'm glad that I was the one to notice your reappearance."

"Thanks, Greg. I really appreciate that."

...

The doctor who had been tending to Rosie finally entered the room with some news.

"You may see Rosie now. She is still physically weak but she will be responsive to anything you say or do." He said.

Molly stood up faster than Sherlock and for once, the male was shocked at his slowness.

 _This is a good thing, this means Rosie is becoming better._

Molly followed behind the doctor and gave a huge sigh of relief when she saw Rosie staring back up at her with a hint of a smile.

Sherlock remained in the back, not wanting to intrude on their moment. _She wouldn't even remember me._

Rosie gurgled, her blue eyes straying to Sherlock's presence. Weakly, she reached a longing hand out at him, making Molly turn to face him.

"Sh-She wants you," she whispered.

Sherlock's heart fluttered as he slowly made his way over to the plastic crib. Rosie was becoming more fussier by the minute and Sherlock placed his finger in her hand, making her latch on immediately and calm.

"I shouldn't have listened to John... I knew she missed you," Molly said, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Sherlock chuckled. "You were being a little antichrist, hmm? A little devil as your mother once said?" He asked the child. "Yes..., I see. There's the faint 666 on your little forehead."

He heard Molly laugh as Rosie gave her own signs of approval.

"I missed you too, child. I wanted to see you so much."

Rosie's eyebrows furrowed as she started tugging on her nose tube.

"No, no. Don't do that, little Rosie. You need that, you see. You're very ill."

Rosie started to hiccup before starting a full on hissy fit and crying.

Molly wanted to provide her duties as she looked up at the doctor who gave her a nod of approval. Smiling, she took the baby into her arms and chuckled as Rosie tried to grab at Sherlock's brown locks as he stood behind Molly.

"You're okay, baby. Aunt Molly's here." She turned to face Sherlock and added with a whisper, "And Uncle Sherlie's here, too."

...

John watched as Molly and Sherlock tended to his daughter. He took the toy from his pocket and sighed, squeezing it in his hands.

If anyone had been looking, they would have thought the blonde child belonged to the two brunettes in the room but others knew otherwise.

Opening the door, John let himself in and cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the other three adults in the room.

"John." Sherlock's voice held relief. Regret.

"Sherlock, Molly."

The doctor turned to him. "Are you related?"

"I'm Rosie's dad." John replied. "What is wrong with her?"

Molly allowed the child to be taken from her and into her father's arm, smiling as Rosie quickly settled into her father's chest, lovingly.

"She has menighitis. It's mild, she should make a speedy recovery." The doctor replied. "Her godparents have taken such good care of her in your absence."

John smiled gratefully at Molly. "I know they have."

"If you would like to follow me for more information on your daughter's condition?"

John sighed, placing a kiss on his daughter's head before handing her onto Sherlock who rejected the contact but complied nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," John told him.

Sherlock looked down at the blonde child's blue eyes before looking up at his _best friend_. "I apologise."

Molly smiled and noticed the toy still gripped by John's hand. "Oh, she wouldn't sleep without that!"

"I'm glad to have found it."

Sherlock looked down at the child who gripped his hair. She was her father's child.


	3. What Happens Now?

**Excited to update on my birthday :) Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

As Sherlock entered his taxi late that night at 2 AM, he was surprised to see Molly Hooper slide in after him, smiling apologetically.

"My taxi cancelled. I wondered if I could share with you?"

Sherlock gave a small shrug and kept to his side, noticing Molly run her hand through her greasy hair as the taxi drove off.

"It was lovely to see John again... Rosie seemed much happier." She whispered, unsure of whether or not he wanted to start a conversation.

Surprisingly, he replied. "I saw it in his eyes as he handed her to me. He hasn't forgiven me. I believe that he may never do."

Molly's eyes widened as she watched the orange streetlight from outside illuminate his face for all of two seconds. "Give him time, Sherlock."

"I know, Hooper," Sherlock said, turning to face the scenery go by.

Molly took this as the end of the conversation so settled for picking off the cracked nail polish from her nails.

As the taxi finally settled outside her flat, Molly turned to face Sherlock with a small smile. "Goodnight."

Sherlock looked at her, almost pleadingly. Molly knew what this meant. _Don't leave me alone. Not tonight. Not after... Rosie._

"How about you join me for a drink?" She added.

He looked almost relieved, getting out after her as she paid the taxi driver for his troubles.

"Have a nice night, sir," she mumbled to the driver who tipped his hat in reply before leaving.

She walked to her door, unlocking it and stepping into her home, Sherlock following.

He avoided Molly's feline, Toby and settled on her sofa in the living room, sending a glare at the cat who stalked off sassily.

He never liked cats. Dogs were his thing.

Molly returned to the room, sans her coat and holding two wine glasses.

"Tea felt too tame for me. I just want to-"

"Forget?" He cut her off.

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips as she handed one glass to Sherlock. "Forget I will." She told him, taking a long sip of her wine.

Sherlock had never seen this side of her, actually... he had never registered that she drank her troubles away. He could have guessed from the way her lips were pursed from nights (or days) from sipping from glasses and the way that the red always stained her lips whenever she had had a cheeky one. But he had tended to ignore the details. What she did in her spare time was none of his concern. At least before.

"You ought to cut down on this, you know?" He asked her, before taking a greater gulp from his glass.

Molly rolled her eyes. "What do you know?"

"I know... I know that times have been trying lately but you shouldn't risk your health because of that."

"So what?" Molly whispered, slurring evident in her 'so'. "My best girl pal's dead and I'm stuck being her daughter's nanny as her husband grieves and her weird other 'not-so-husband' looms around like Slender Man."

"Slender-who?"

Molly shook her head, dismissing the reference. "Let's just drink."

And so they did.

...

Sherlock woke up to rays of sun shining in his eyes.

 _When did I get home?_

He yawned, stretching as he noticed his bare body.

Taking the time, he examined his whereabouts. _Not high, but drunk..._

He winced, holding his hand up to his head. _How much did I drink last night?_

Sherlock guessed that he had never left the flat of Molly Hooper last night and wasn't surprised to see the lack of her presence in the room. Although, he heard the shower run in the adjoining bathroom.

Grunting, he lifted himself off the bed and slowly got dressed, knowing that she would need at least twenty-five minutes to sort herself out.

He left the room, heading straight for the kitchen, ignoring the presence of _her_ discarded clothes on the floor.

 _Who dared who?_

He searched the drawers and cupboards, smiling when he found his remedy. Tea.

Tea would be nice for him to have this... late in the morning. Tea would be nice for her too.

By the time he had finished boiling the water and retrieving the sugar, he heard the shower cut off.

 _She didn't take as long..._

Preparing their preferred teas, Sherlock turned to face the hypothetical elephant in the room, a case he all too remembered when giving his Best Man's speech for John and...

He looked down at his tea, continuing to stir it slowly.

"Hi."

Sherlock gave a short nod. "Good morning."

Molly blushed, placing a hand awkwardly on her towelled hair. "Thanks for the uh, tea."

"You are welcome."

She took a sip before placing it back down on the counter and releasing her wet hair from the towel. "You can uh, take a shower if you want? I don't mind."

Sherlock thanked her, finishing his tea before accepting a dry towel and locking himself in the bathroom.

 _What happens now? That was almost certainly a one-night stand so... what. Happens. Now?_


	4. Mother of Your Unborn Child

**To be honest, I believe this story has something to do more with Sherlock than Rosie because I've finally thought of a path for this story. Hope you enjoy the slight change :) It will also be called Saving Sherlock as that is more fitting. The second part of this chapter is after the events of Sunday's episode, The Lying Detective so there are spoilers, to warn you.**

* * *

He had to be sure. No one just ended up in bed together after being intoxicated, did they?

"Molly... Did we?"

Sherlock was now clean, sipping on another cup of tea as Molly rummaged through her work bag.

Molly halted in her actions, running a nervous hand through her still wet hair. "I don't... I honestly do not remember."

That didn't make Sherlock feel any less confused but he stayed silent afterwards, finishing his tea.

"Do you think John's alright? And Rosie?" She asked, putting her makeup set back into her bag.

"I'm sure that they are quite alright," Sherlock replied not too afterwards.

He washed his cup and placed it in the dish rack, drying his hands. "I really do not believe that he's forgiven me."

Molly didn't know what to say so she just grabbed her phone and ordered a pizza for them both. If he was staying, that is but she did so in case.

When she cancelled the call, she nervously took a glance at Sherlock's stoic stance in front of her small kitchen sink. She could see his hands whitening as he increased the grip of pressure by the side of the counter that the sink laid on.

"Are you all right?"

"To be honest, Hooper... I don't even know what being 'all right' is at the moment," Sherlock replied lowly as he slipped his long coat on and tied his scarf around his neck. "Thank you. For the teas."

Molly nodded and led him to her front door, giving him a small smile as he walked out. "For what it's worth... If we did do _that_ , if either of us remember doing it or not... then I enjoyed it regardless."

She just had to say it. She ignored the reddening of her cheeks as her blood rushed to fill those spots in embarrassment.

Sherlock didn't face her but a smirk played on his lips as he walked away from her flat building to hail for a taxi.

 _You stupid girl, Molly!,_ she thought, going back inside her home and closing the door behind her. _You stupid girl._

 _..._

Mrs Hudson was not surprised when she saw Sherlock waltz in after being twenty-odd hours away from home. She simply made him a meal of brunch and went about her usual activities, laughing loudly on the phone as her friend told her a hilarious story.

Sherlock could hear the story. It wasn't all that hilarious, to be honest.

What are the chances of bumping into a man and having him stay at the same exquisite hotel with you in a lavish place as Hawaii? And the fact that the hotel is only known to an exclusive few. Wow... Hilarious, indeed.

Sherlock tried not to act that way. Rude, he meant. He was _bored_. No interesting cases came up, the increasingly chances of adultery amongst couples not surprising him at all no longer.

He needed a _thrill_. Molly was Molly... She wasn't much of a thrill but her company was much appreciated lately. Giving him discreet bits of information of Rosie's well doings. Not much of John's but he knew about it anyway. _He always knew_.

Rubbing his face, he picked his phone up and set about moving his plan in action.

 _This is for you, Mary. I seriously hope you appreciate this_ , Sherlock found himself thinking but this wasn't for Mary. No, not all. This wasn't for her daughter either, although he adored the strange little human.

No. Mary Watson (nee Morstan) was bloody clever.

Sherlock laughed at the realisation. "You really did love him, didn't you?" He spoke into the air.

"Sherlock?! Are you all right? Who are you talking to?" He heard the landlady call out, confused.

"None of your concern, Mrs Hudson. Thank you for the eggs!" He called back, rolling his eyes.

He was relieved to hear no reply nor comeback and continued to make arrangements on his phone, his eyes wafting to a certain box in a certain place.

That. Was the thrill.

...

It had been two months.

Culverton Smith, the philanthropist who couldn't stop confessing had been put on trial, Sherlock being their obvious witness as the victim of attempted murder.

John scoffed in disbelief as he reread the newspaper in his favourite armchair in his old favourite place.

"Still can't believe that you and technically my dead wife, plotted all this just for my attention."

Sherlock opened his eyes, bloodshot from the incapability to stop using and gave his friend a knowing smirk.

"Do you still see her?"

John gripped the sides of the newspaper. "She comes and goes. Mainly to remind me to check on Rosie for her ever since the meningitis."

"I see her. Calling me a 'bloody know-it-all' every time I solve a mediocre case." Sherlock replied, rubbing his face. "You'll be late, you know?"

"Sorry?" John asked, glancing at his wristwatch before jumping up in surprise. "My appointment."

"Yes, give her my regards," Sherlock said, standing up and making himself a cup of tea in his small kitchen space that he had left.

John slowly stood up, his eyes warily scanning Sherlock. "You've finished all this, you know? Why can't you stop _using_?"

"The thrill's not enough, John..."

John hesitated. "How about I bring Rosie over, hmm? She's all better and I'm sure she would love to see you-"

"If she hasn't forgotten me already." Sherlock sighed, sipping his tea.

His best friend stayed silent, slipping his coat on and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "We'll be here around 6."

"My schedule's always free." Sherlock gave a smile, hearing his friend's steps become quieter as he left.

He was surprised to hear the doorbell and rolled his eyes, going to answer it before the landlady even stepped foot out of her door.

"Don't tell me you've forgot-"

It wasn't John Watson who stood behind the door. No, this was Molly Hooper with a nervous smile playing on her lips.

"May I come in?"

Sherlock gestured her in, his tea continuing to touch his lips as he trekked back up the stairs, Molly closing the front door.

"To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Sherlock said dramatically, making Molly sigh at his state.

"You really ought to stop using, you know? It will kill you."

Sherlock chuckled. "That's what John and Mrs Hudson say. Yet, here I am!"

"No... Sherlock, you _must_ stop."

Sherlock noticed something about her.

The looks, the slightly baggier clothing, the nervous biting of the lips but all that came up were question marks so he waved them off, Molly giving him disinterested looks.

"Who are you to order me to stop?"

Molly gasped silently, shocked that he even asked the question. Flustered, she began to answer him. "I am not your parent, nor am I Mycroft or John but I will tell you this... I am ordering you to stop as the mother of your unborn child." She whispered.


	5. Save Me

Sherlock's eyes widened as he slowly turned to face her.

 _"Uh oh... What have you done, Sherlock?"_ He heard mockingly behind him.

He closed his eyes, a hand pressing down on his head as he tried to _think_.

Everything was swirling in his mind and was processing everything all too _quickly_.

No. _No._

"Sherlock?" Molly breathed out, nervously.

 _"Sherlock?"_ He heard his name being called again but from behind him.

He swatted angrily behind him. "Shut up!"

Molly jumped, almost knocking herself off the dining table seat.

"Excuse me?" She whispered.

 _"Yes, excuse her?"_

Sherlock tilted his head to the side to glance warily at his dead friend. Mary Watson.

 _Now_ was not the time for her to annoy him.

Mary giggled. _"You're no fun. I'll go and mess with John for now. I'll be back."_

Sherlock was thankful for the sudden silence in his mind but that didn't stop for long after her presence had left.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked, her eyes becoming watery.

"Leave," Sherlock told her hoarsely. "And shut the door behind you."

Molly wordlessly stood up, her bag tightening in her hand as she left, walking down the stairs and out of 221B Baker Street.

Sherlock rubbed at his face, locking himself in his room as he searched for a usable towel.

"So many thoughts... So many processing to be done..." He muttered, turning on the shower. "So many endless whispering..."

...

John's eyes widened as the gun was still aimed at him.

 _Why_ did he have to be in this position? _What_ did he have to do with this?

"I'm sorry, Eustace or whatever." John started.

Eurus narrowed her eyes, her finger easily gently pressing down on the trigger even more.

"I don't quite see how I fit into all of this? Sherlock's _your supposed brother_ so why do you want to kill me?"

She laughed. John frowned even more as Mary's presence turned up, her eyes wide in wonder and amazement.

 _"So,_ she's _the secret sibling, hmm?"_ Mary wondered aloud. _"Boy is she ugly. Then again, Mycroft's no looker either. We really ought to see their parents again someday. Catch up, if they will."_

John rolled his eyes. "Look, why don't I get Mycroft or Sherlock here, hmm?"

Eurus returned with her own roll of eyes. "That's too easy. Plus, I have easy access to them any-"

A phone rang. She raised an eyebrow and picked it up, her eyes and hand never leaving John's position.

"Hello?"

John struggled to hear what the person on the other side was saying but luckily Mary helped him.

"That's good. Yes, apprehend her."

 _"A woman. Just left 221B Baker Street. They want to kidnap her."_ Mary said.

John's eyes widened. Surely they weren't thinking of kidnapping a gentle woman like Mrs Hudson?

Eurus cancelled the call. "How lovely. Seems as if you will be accompanied in your death."

"Again, what have I done exactly? I do not want to be in the middle of any sibling rivalry or tantrums!" John roared. "I have a daughter. A daughter who relies on me and you want to _kill_ me for nothing?"

His threat laughed, shaking her head. "You don't understand your relevance. Nor your necessity..."

"What. Do. You. Mean?" John growled.

Mary sighed, rolling her eyes. _"Sweetie, she means that you're relevant and necessary to our Sherlock. Anyone who has a certain amount of relationship with our resident weirdo is immediately a threat and on her personal vendetta hitlist."_

John's eyes sparkled in realisation. _Thank you, Mary._

"You want to kill me because I'm friends with Sherlock, hmm?"

Eurus wanted to clap her hands. "Finally. You really are a slow one, aren't you?"

Mary shrugged, tilting her head once. _"He gets there eventually..."_

"That's irrelevant here, right? So, go on then. Do your worst." John sighed.

...

Mycroft growled in frustration, the person on the end of his call wincing.

"How did they take her without our eyes and ears knowing?!" He roared.

The person on the phone replied with many apologies, stating that they hadn't known how either.

Mycroft rubbed his head, closing his eyes.

He had _missed_ his 2 PM appointment. _How?_

"Look, just find that vehicle." He muttered, cancelling the call as he and his team worked on the surveillance systems. Mycroft spotted his assistant rush to him. "You. Get Sherlock on the phone."

She nodded and dialled his brother's number on the private phone before handing the phone to her employer.

"Well, go and do something useful?" Mycroft snapped, making her jump and rush away as he put the phone on his ear.

 _ **"What, Mycroft?"**_

Mycroft scoffed. "Where are you?"

 _ **"Home. But of course, brother mine, you knew that."**_

The older of the two looked at the screen to see his brother waving at him from the window condescendingly.

"We have a situation."

Sherlock frowned, moving closer to the window to face the camera. _**"What situation, Mycroft?"**_

"Two of your associates. They've been taken."

Sherlock held a subtle gasp. He looked back at the camera and cancelled the call.

...

Sherlock turned around, spotting something _out of place_.

The letter.

She _was_ real.

He picked the letter up, examining it as he turned off all the lights and drew the blinds. He could easily see his brother in his mind, wondering what the hell he was up to but sod him for now.

Sherlock found his trusted UV light and turned it on, placing the letter in front of him that lay in the line of light vision.

'MISS ME?' was written clear as day.

His breath hitched in his throat as he dropped the letter and realised why his mind was going on such a necessary overdrive.

The drugs were now wearing off but they still affected his line of thinking and actions.

There was too damn much to think about.

John. Mary. Rosie. Mrs Hudson. Molly. The baby...

Sherlock's head snapped towards the closed living room door and he yanked it open, rushing down the stairs to put his coat on and open his front door.

"Sherlock?"

"John." Sherlock simply said, rushing out of the flat.

From above, Mycroft watched as his _dear_ brother left his home in such a hurry. _So, now he acts?,_ he thought.

Sherlock halted to find someone holding a door open to a car. _This is not Mycroft's..._

And Mycroft realised this as well. Turning to a member on his team, he instructed them to follow that car.

"Get in, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock complied.

 _So, Moriarty... What have you got in store for me for our final opera?,_ Sherlock smirked as he thoughtfully tapped a finger on his chin.

He already knew where he was going. He already knew who he would meet there and how many people were going to be there. Why did he feel so excited but have a sinking feeling at the bottom of his stomach?

Mary appeared beside him, eyes full of worry. _"Well Sherlock, let's go save my husband again."_

Sherlock turned to face her, wishing he could offer some sort of comfort but remembered that she was a figment of his and John's minds.

"Let's go and save _me_." He corrected instead.


	6. The Party's Just Started

**I posted chapter five on the same day as chapter four so there is a glitch if you haven't read that as it won't show up in your update stories list. That's when you see Sherlock's response to Molly's news. Anyway, onto the next chapter.**

* * *

Sherlock scratched his nails anxiously on his palms, trying to stop the drugs from clouding his mind.

Mrs Hudson was home so the only other necessary person in his life who might have been kidnapped would have been...

"Molly..." He breathed out, realisation entering his eyes.

Mary turned to face him, her face solemn but held with wonder.

 _"What are you going to do about Molly, Sherlock? About your unborn child? If this child is a boy, maybe he and Rosie can grow up together. Wouldn't that be sweet, Sherlock? Our children - cousins in a way."_

Sherlock ignored her. There was no way that Molly would ever allow him access to their child now, regardless of his contacts and brother's intervention.

He soon arrived at a warehouse, almost smiling at its predictability. Everything seemed to be going to plan.

 _"I can't wait for this,"_ Mary said excitedly beside him. _"What's your plan of action? Go in and shoot the place down with your sharp words or what?"_

"Dear Mary, there's no need for any of that..." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

The driver tilted his head briefly to the side upon hearing Sherlock's low muttering but disregarded it by stepping out of the vehicle and opening the door for Sherlock.

Sherlock glanced warily at him, knowing that he was just doing his job. The man had kids, he discovered, he didn't really want to be in this position.

"Leave while it's still calm," Sherlock warned the driver.

The driver gave him a shrug before Sherlock exited the vehicle and he got back in. The driver proceeded to restart the car and listen to Sherlock's words, leaving the place without a second glance.

 _That's one person saved._

Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets and scanned the warehouse before him.

The villain inside wouldn't have more than four lackeys at most. Two for each kidnapped person there was.

This was going to be simple enough.

...

Mycroft picked up the little pair of booties from his desk and fiddled with it, his mind running with so many questions for his dearest little brother.

Of course, Mycroft had taken precautions when he saw the young detective enter the young pathologist's home and stay there for longer than the usual 'friendly stay'.

He was also aware of the pathologist's emergency doctor's appointment. He had eyes and ears in St. Bart's.

The thought of another Holmes generation excited him. Now, this would prevent their obnoxious, _normal_ mother from interrupting his life with the talk of _marriage_ and - he shuddered - _offspring_.

"Sir, we have no eyes inside the warehouse." He heard his assistant tell him as she typed away on her laptop, seated before him at the conference table.

Mycroft let out a small growl. The mother of his brother's unborn child was in there. Along with a trusted Dr Watson as well but the future of the Holmes legacy was inside there, unknowing and unseeing.

"Do we have plain clothes there?"

The assistant nodded. "Five right now. One's following the detective."

"We need to intercept one of the associates of Eurus."

She nodded. "Consider it done, sir."

Mycroft then ignored the clicking that her typing made and brought his eyes to his day planner.

'SHERRINGFORD 2 PM'

Maybe a late appointment would be needed. He had to know how she got out in the first place.

"Phillipa," he almost rolled his eyes at his knowledge of her name. It was always 'you' or 'girl'. "Leave the room, I have an important call to make."

His assistant nodded, halting her typing as she pressed a button on her Bluetooth to inform the rest of the team of her future presence in their room. She left as quietly as she had stayed in the room.

Mycroft picked his phone up and dialled the number memorised in his mind for so long.

 ** _"It was not my fault, Mycroft..."_**

"You should have kept a firm grip on her!" Mycroft snapped immediately, rubbing his head.

The voice scoffed. **_"I am not her keeper, am I?"_**

"But you are her protection. She would have never escaped without your doing." Mycroft tutted.

The other voice sighed. **_"I apologise. It was a sincere error on my part, Mycroft but surely it was time now? Everyone was starting to forget her."_**

"Which was a _good_ thing!"

The voice chuckled. **_"I know that she is a bit of a... mental one. Come on, what has she done now?"_**

Mycroft wanted to break something. "Only gone and formed an acquaintance with Sherlock's biggest enemy, kidnapped his best friend - a doctor - and also kidnapped the mother of his unborn child. So, tell me if that is something to laugh about, _Sherringford_."

Sherringford sighed on the other line, pressing his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. **_"Eurus... she's been away from civilisation for such a long-"_**

"Do not try and humanise this unwanted being, 'Ford."

Sherringford gave a small, stiff laugh. _**"I'll see what I can do, brother mine."**_

The call was ended and Mycroft threw the phone at the wall.

Of course, he'd always protect their _dear little_ sister.

Sherringford was a sly silver fox who did as he pleased when he pleased without ever thinking of the consequences that it could have for the other two siblings of the Holmes family.

"Phillipa!"

When his assistant did not reply, he slammed his hand down on the table and angrily left the room to look for the phone he contacted Sherlock with.

...

Mary walked silently beside Sherlock as he hung to the walls, creeping into the warehouse.

 _"Can we not James Bond this thing, please?"_

Sherlock rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to reply to his subconscious telling him that he looked utterly _stupid_ right now.

Mary scoffed when he didn't listen to her. _"So, where's my favourite hat, hmm? It would stop your stupid hair from getting into your eyes so often. Actually, speaking of your hair... Did Molly run her hands through it as you guys made such precious love which resulted in the conception of your child? Oh, I so hope it's a boy. A little Sherlock Junior running around with Rosie!"_

Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, stopping his stupid wall antics. "Shut up, Mary. Now's not the time!"

He then proceeded to enter the main space, sighing in relief when he saw John and Molly's figures tied up in the middle of the room.

"So nice of you to join us, Sherlock!" He heard. "I am quite insulted that you did not recognise me. Then again, you're high and we haven't seen each other since we were teenagers."

Molly and John's heads turned to face Sherlock casually walking towards them, his eyes looking for Eurus.

"Who would want to remember someone like you?"

Eurus laughed, running a manicured finger nail through her brunette hair. "Well, _two_ people want to."

Sherlock knew it was inevitable when he heard the loud click-clacking of high heels enter the room.

 _Too light to be Eurus but... too right to be-_

Sherlock's head snapped away from his friends as he turned to face The Woman.

"Sherlock... I know when I teased you about that night in High Wycombe but I honestly did not mean for this to happen..." John said, almost laughing at the inevitability.

Irene circled Sherlock, running a finger down the collar of his coat. "I've missed you so..." She whispered with a red smile.

"What are you doing here?"

This was not expected. Sure, Eurus and the other person were expected but _this..._ The dominatrix in her full beauty with her luscious brown hair pinned up and curled with her tight leather and lace dress ensemble.

"You're not happy to see me?" She pouted briefly before smiling at Eurus. "Unlike your sister, I'm _willing_ to make a deal."

Irene suddenly retrieved a knife from her thigh stocking and held it under Molly's neck, her other hand securely tightened on her head.

"You keep our lovely doctor and this one dies."

Sherlock scoffed. "Out of me and you, Eurus... Only one of us will live." He said, ignoring Irene which made the woman roll her eyes and further the knife up Molly's stiff neck.

Eurus giggle at the show. "Everything leading to this moment - to the man that you are, Sherlock... Is your memory of me. Now, predict who will die and who will not. I believe only two people will leave this place alive but not necessarily unscathed.

Sherlock's eyes finally laid on Molly's struggling form.

 _"Whatever it takes to make sure that she lives, Sherlock. She has to be one of the two people but I'm hoping that there will be more."_

Sherlock looked down at his vision of Mary's words in his head and she suddenly appeared beside her widower.

 _"I love you, John Watson... But now it's time to save our detective."_ With one kiss to his cheek, John felt her presence leave, suddenly making the room grow colder for him.

Suddenly, a phone rang and Sherlock took it out of his pocket and held it in the air.

From her position, Eurus squinted to see the name written in bold. "Answer it. It would be rude to leave dear Mycroft out of this party, hmm? And stand down, Miss Adler, we're not here for your thirst."

Irene hissed, letting go of Molly as she continued to hold the knife in her hand, daringly at Molly.

Sherlock answered the phone, placing it onto his head.

"Mycroft,"

 _ **"I am outside, currently. Give Eurus my regards."**_

Sherlock smirked. This wasn't Mycroft. No...

"Why are you smirking?" Eurus asked, her hand placing down on a blinking package.

"Mycroft sends his regards. In a moment like this? Surely, he knows not to disturb a little bit of sibling rivalry, hmm?"

Eurus chuckled with him. "Dear Mycroft... Tell him that the party's just started."


	7. What Did You Give Me?

**You're in for a long dramatic chapter here :)**

* * *

John's senses kicked in as he saw his dead wife appear next to Eurus in the concealed box of hers, touching the blinking package.

"Sherlock," he said lowly. "Eurus has a bomb."

Sherlock's eyes widened slightly as the voice continued to speak in his ear, Eurus smiling happily at the thought of being reunited with another brother.

John turned to face Molly who had blood dripping slowly from her neck, Irene not leaving her unscathed by nicking it after throwing a small tantrum at not getting to kill someone.

"So, when's Crofty going to appear then?" Eurus asked, tapping the package.

"You know Mycroft. He loves making a dramatic entrance with that stupid third leg of his," Sherlock replied casually, referring to their brother's beloved umbrella.

Eurus clapped her hands gleefully, turning to the other person in the concealed box.

"How about that? We get two Holmes brothers to kill."

The person laughed, placing a ghostly white hand on her shoulder affectionately.

"That's good but I only wanted Sherlock."

"You're never quite satisfied with more, James."

Sherlock cut the phone call and stared back at his torturer.

"Moriarty," he acknowledged.

He knew that he was alive but he did not know how.

"Did. You. Miss. Me?" Moriarty drawled out, running a pale finger across Eurus' cheek, making her blush slightly at the touch.

"You already know my answer," Sherlock said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "How? I watched you die."

"You watched what I wanted you to..." Moriarty replied, flicking a piece of invisible lint from his shoulder. "Did you ever wonder why you felt a little dizzy?"

Sherlock laughed, realisation in his eyes. "You _drugged_ me."

"Quite easily. It was all for this here moment. To mess with your head."

Eurus was now bored. "Let's play a game. Mycroft's taking his God _awful_ time, isn't he?"

"What game do you want to play?" Adler asked, looking at Sherlock seductively.

The Holmes female smirked. "In this warehouse, there are many rooms. In these rooms, one of you will be placed in a room and sealed in with a code. If Sherlock manages to unlock his room and has just enough time to save one of you before my little package explodes then kudos to him, he wins the game."

"And you?" Molly dare braved. "Don't you win?"

Eurus laughed. "Of course, I win! My associates and I will be long gone before you can even say the word 'bomb'."

Sherlock now noticed that the three narcissists in the room were putting on gas masks.

"Goodnight, brother. For now..."

...

Sherlock woke up, gasping for air as he realised that he was alone in a room with a one-way window, coffin, dog bowl and a door.

"Finally!" He heard. "Wondered when you were going to wake up..."

He tried to look through the window but only stared at his depressive face as a result.

"Go on then, the first code?" Sherlock asked.

Eurus giggled. "Sherlock... there are two clues in this room. They're not necessarily going to help you exit this room but they are going to help you unlock the other two. You just have to decide which one you want to use and which door it unlocks."

"What about exiting this room?"

"That's another clue entirely."

Sherlock frowned when his eyes met the bowl then the coffin. Four words in total.

"I see the questions in your minding running. Who does the coffin belong to, Sherlock? Why does that bowl have 'Redbeard' written on it?" Eurus smiled.

Sherlock's hands brushed against the coffin as he sized it up and deduced which gender it was meant to belong to.

"Female. Unmarried. 5'4."

Eurus nodded, but he couldn't see it anyway. "Yeah and?"

"It's Molly's, obviously..." Sherlock mumbled. "What's this got to do with anything?"

Eurus giggled. "I know, Sherlock."

"Know what?"

"Everything," she whispered so gently. "Why don't you pick up its lid and read what it says, hmm?"

Sherlock hesitantly backed towards the lid and picked it up with ease.

'I LOVE YOU'

"I... love... you," Sherlock read out.

Eurus nodded. "That's her clue. Now, try and deduce John's. Pick the bowl up."

Sherlock placed the lid gently onto the coffin and picked up the bowl on the floor beside it.

"Bearing in mind, you have fifteen minutes until the bomb goes off. This clue isn't as easy as the first one."

His heart lurched. How was he going to do this? Now, he really wished that Mary was here to help him.

...

Mycroft barked orders as Sherrinford slipped into a disguise.

"You always were the one to call the shots. Even with our parents."

Mycroft glared at him. "You were too involved with the physicality of everything. Someone didn't need to get their hands dirty," he argued. "Now you know the plan?"

"From the back of my hand." Sherrinford rolled his eyes. "I still do not know why I aged quicker than you. I'm only three years younger,"

His brother chuckled bitterly. "Someone went and joined the Secret Service, didn't they?"

Sherrinford smirked. "But someone learnt how to correctly wield a gun of any type."

"Can you gentlemen not argue? We're kind of in a delicate situation here," Lestrade called to them.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and turned to face his trusted assistant, Anthea, who had just come back from time off sick.

"Any details on the whereabouts of our targets?"

Anthea nodded, pushing her hair back from her face as she inspected the red dots on the tablet that she held. "Eurus is on the top floor, Moriarty's doppelganger is in a room - waiting, I assume - and Adler's on guard. There are two other guards and Sherrinford will intercept the one on the left wing for easier and sleek access."

Mycroft inspected the positions and turned to face his brother.

"You hear? Intercept the left wing."

Sherrinford rolled his eyes. "I am not deaf, although I do have selective hearing." He slipped his helmet on and holstered his rifle, petting down his bulletproof vest. "I may not be as clever as you, Sherlock and Eurus but I do have my own talents. Coordinating a highly protected asylum and conducting an extraction operation are two of them."

"Too bad your security measures failed." Mycroft snapped.

The other brother chuckled. "That was the governor's fault. Can't I enjoy a little holiday once in a while with my latest gold digger?"

"What you do in your spare time should not put everyone else at risk. And inform your governor that the next time I see him, his contract is terminated."

...

Sherlock inspected the bowl.

"So, Eurus... I don't remember much about our childhood let alone you. Why don't you shed some light?"

Eurus's eyes lost their sparkle a bit as she bit back a sad smile. "We used to play, Sherlock."

"What did we play?"

She chuckled softly. "You remember."

"Pirates."

He heard an applause and he tilted his head in reply.

"Well done. But we never played _together_. You were always playing with him. He's one of the reasons why you're like this. Why you can't conduct any emotional feelings. Like me,"

Sherlock placed the dog bowl down. "I remember, Eurus."

"Do you really?"

"We had a dog. I named him Redbeard. I adored him."

Eurus shook her head, knowing that he couldn't see her. "You adored Redbeard, all right. He was your best friend."

"One of the only two that I have in the world," Sherlock replied.

"Redbeard was the reason why you never played with me. How could _he_ hold more value than me? Your sister."

Sherlock closed his eyes. "We were diff-"

"We _were the same!_ " Eurus cut him off. "The _same_."

"Mycroft told me little about you."

Eurus sighed. "Did he tell you that he faked my death and told Mother and Father utter lies?"

Sherlock stayed nonchalant. "Mycroft likes keeping his secrets."

"Did he also tell you that Sherrinford long since quit the SS and has had me trapped in an asylum for these past decades?"

Sherlock remained unfazed. "Again, each brother is entitled to his own secrets."

"But they _hurt_ me, Sherlock! You're the only one I could have trusted!" Eurus screeched. "But you hurt me too when you put that irrelevant before me!"

"Eurus... I am running out of time, I need this clue."

Eurus giggled. "Indeed you do."

Sherlock clenched his fist and inspected bowl once more.

"Redbeard was so handsome, wasn't he?" Eurus said nonchalantly.

Sherlock halted, turning his head to face the window. "What... did you mean by that?"

"That he was handsome. Annoying but handsome. Wouldn't have minded a bit of that when we grew up."

Sherlock's face contorted into shock. _Redbeard... no, wasn't a dog... but, a little boy. Victor Trevor. My best friend. My_ first _best friend._

"Mother always knew what child grew up to be such handsome little things."

"Wh-what did you do to him?"

Sherlock remembered wandering through a farm as a child, in front of a great big stone house, calling for Redbeard.

"He... died, Sherlock."

He closed his eyes as the painful memory emerged. They did say that once children experienced traumatic things, they tended to block them way out.

"I..." He gulped. "Was Yellowbeard and he was... Redbeard. You killed him..."

Eurus nodded. "So, who's John to you now? Redbeard's taken, darling."

 _Taken_. It meant so many things. Taken by the Lord... Taken as a name... The list went on.

"Bearing in mind, it has to fit your little pirate theme. You were so immature."

"So. Were. You." Sherlock gritted out. "And he's Blackbeard."

Eurus gasped. "Seven minutes. Boy, those eight minutes flew by so quickly!"

Sherlock glared at the window. "The clue?"

"Blackbeard is inside the clue," Eurus replied, yawning. "You may proceed to the next room."

Sherlock tried the door but it wouldn't budge.

"Oops... How about I make this easier, hmm? I'm giving you twenty-three minutes back. That's me being kind, brother mine."

He sighed, leaning against the door. He wasn't sure whether it was out of relief or out of fed-up-ness.

"Your clue."

Eurus smiled. "What is my name, Sherlock? Who am I?"

"Eurus..." Sherlock said, trying the door. "Is that it? Is that the code?"

Eurus shook her head, resting her feet up on the small desk that she watched behind from.

"Try again." She said. "What is my name?"

"Eurus..." Sherlock's eyes widened. "Greek for the east wind is coming."

The door clicked open.

"You may proceed."

He didn't waste any time in leaving the room before she changed her mind but he stopped when he realised that he didn't know which door to open first.

"You have a choice," He heard on the tannoy. "The left for Dr Hooper. Or the right for Dr Watson. Who do you value the most?"

Mary's appearance suddenly stood beside him. He never felt so relieved for his subconscious.

 _"Who are you going to choose, Sherlock? I can't help you decide this. You need to let one go." Mary said gently, a sad look in her eyes. "The mother of your unborn child to carry on the Holmes legacy or my wonderful husband, your one and true best friend other than that poor little boy, Victor to remain the only constant in your life other than your family? The one who taught you what love is."_

She was not helping. He valued them both. John was a father and Molly was a mother-to-be. They both had people depending on them.

"Tick-tock, Sherlock."

Sherlock started towards the left, making Mary gasp but he paused and turned to the right door.

"I'm sorry, Molly."

Sherlock made his way to the right door and whispered to the voice activator, trying every possible phrase he could think of containing the word 'Blackbeard' in it.

"You have fifteen minutes instead, Sherlock." Eurus smiled.

Sherlock glared at the camera, knowing that she was seeing. He continued to try new phrases, wasting more time. He almost hit his head at knowing the most obvious one.

He cleared his throat and spoke, "You are my Blackbeard, John Watson."

The door beeped and John looked up to see Sherlock.

"You did it," he said in disbelief. "Where's Molly?"

"I could only save one."

John frowned and exited the room. "What do you mean?"

"We have to leave, John."

"No! Do you know how much that woman has done for you? She let you use her and now you're abandoning her-"

A bullet shot past them and they turned to see a guard.

He took his helmet off and gave them a smile. "Anyone order a saving?"

"Sherrinford," Sherlock smirked.

"Follow me, gents."

John stood his ground. "We have to save Molly."

Sherlock groaned and turned back to the door on the left. He could see Molly anxiously sitting down on the floor, biting her nails.

"Eleven minutes," Sherlock whispered to himself.

Molly's clue was 'I love you' but he did not love her, did he? He knew she loved him, probably worshipped him but after what had happened between them, her hostility came through strongly.

"Sherlock," he heard Eurus whisper. "You have to make her say it."

Sherlock's breathed hitched as he forced himself to knock on the door.

"M-Molly? Hello."

"Sherlock?"

"B-Before I open this door... I need you to say something."

Molly stood up and walked over to the door, pulling her jacket's sleeves down. "What is it?"

"'I love you'."

Molly scoffed, shaking her head. "You have got to be kidding me. This isn't a joke, Sherlock. There is a bomb and there's a timer inside this and you want me to tell you that I love you so you can open the bloody door?"

She didn't understand. She had to do the work in order to open the door herself. He couldn't do anything.

"Please, Molly. I need you to say this, to mean it. For me."

"Bullshit, Sherlock. You know I would mean it but I can't say it. You don't love me so why should I humour you and get my heart broken in the process? You're a real piece of work, you know?"

Sherlock almost cried out in frustration. "Please, Molly. Look, I'll say it."

Molly's eyes darkened. "Don't you dare, Sherlock. You have to mean it."

He knew that he was getting nowhere with this so he turned to face John and Sherrinford. "Leave, I've got this."

They nodded and Sherrinford led the way out, back the way he came from.

Sherlock pressed his hand on the door and closed his eyes.

"I mean this when I say it."

"You don't," Molly cried. "Don't say it, don't bullshit me."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Molly... I love you. You are the mother of my unborn child and that makes me love you even more than I do right now. You have to believe me."

He felt sick like he really wanted to throw up. He remembered loving Victor.

Molly shook her head. "I don't believe you but... I love you and I hate that-"

The door clicked open and Sherlock breathed out a sigh of relief, bringing her to his chest, tightly.

"I... I was standing in the way of my own saving..." She realised, mumbling against his chest.

"It's quite all right. Look, I need you to go okay? I'll be right behind you. John will be in front of you. There's an exit it's just straight ahead, turning into the left. I need you to continue down that path and do not stop until you've exited the building and stay back."

...

"Where's Sherlock and Dr Hooper?" Mycroft asked, walking up to John and Sherrinford who were starting to get people behind the perimeter of the building.

John turned to the middle Holmes brother to reply.

"Inside. The woman wouldn't cooperate."

Mycroft's eyes widened. "You don't understand, 'Ford."

John's interest peaked. "What?"

"Molly's pregnant. With Sherlock's child."

John gasped and Mary's presence stood beside him, excited.

 _"How wonderful!"_

"How? When?" John asked.

Mycroft shook his head. "Now is not the time. We need to make sure that they leave this building. Alive. Anthea, the tablet."

Anthea handed her superior the tablet and told him about Sherlock's and Molly's positions.

"One is moving towards the exit."

"Molly," Mycroft nodded. "Sherlock?"

Anthea shook her head. "Still in there."

His heart dropped and he looked at the building which was to be in pieces very soon.

...

"Why did you make me say those words?" Sherlock asked, storming back into the room with the bowl and coffin.

Eurus giggled. "Six minutes, brother mine."

"Why?!" He roared, smashing up the coffin. "You knew! You forced me to s-say those words!"

Eurus rolled her eyes. "You sure do dramatise! Then again, you've always have been the more emotional one out of us four." She sighed, shaking her head. "But boy did that change after Vicky's death."

Sherlock smashed the bowl too for good measure. "You're demented."

"Says the guy who has not noticed that I had since left. Better yet, I was never here."

"W-what?"

Eurus laughed loudly, clapping her hands as she looked lovingly at her violin. "Visit me some time, huh? We can play together. Like old times."

"But Moriarty, Irene!"

Eurus picked up her violin. "Hologram. Irene... she just happened to be passing by. She's gone now." She started to play. "This is yours. Hear the tune? This is what I will continue to play as you die."

She then stopped talking and let the violin speak for her.

Sherlock stumbled out of the room, the familiar child's song ringing in his ears.

"Four minutes."

Sherlock leapt into action, standing up and running out of the room, following the same instructions that he had relayed to Molly minutes before.

He was surprised to see her waiting for him.

"Took your time," she breathed out, taking his arm as they continued down the hall.

"Why did you wait?"

Molly sighed, "As much as it hurts me to love you and hear you lie..., you are still going to share something with me."

They continued down the path which felt like forever.

As Molly's eyes narrowed to a sliver of daylight, she tugged on his arm harder and ran out just as the building exploded behind them.

They were flung into the air and the people outside ducked back, shielding their own bodies as everything exploded into pieces of metal, glass and wood.

Sherlock and Molly landed on the ground with a thud, their hearts beating loudly as their ears rang.

Molly's body stilled once she realised that she landed on her front, not back or side. The tears came as the pain slowly made its presence known.

Sherlock turned to face her, his hand reaching for her but she didn't take it. Giving up, he succumbed to the darkness.

...

Everything was moving. Annoyingly bumpy.

He groaned, lifting a head up to his head but not opening his eyes yet.

"Sherlock?"

"Mycroft..." He responded, finally opening his eyes. The light blinded him and he used his arm to shield his eyes.

Mycroft used his umbrella to steady his body in the bumpy ambulance ride. "You have suffered some minor burns. A horrible concussion. I can tell you more?"

"Molly..."

"I cannot disclose on her well-being just yet. I chose to ride with you."

Sherlock took a ragged breath. "You know that she's pregnant. Why didn't you prioritise her?"

"Because John made the decision for me."

"He knows?"

"Everyone does. I had to inform them of the severity we were dealing with. Children have lives that matter, you know?"

Sherlock wished he could open his eyes just to roll them. "I know. Rosie matters. This baby matters."

"Glad you agree. How about I check on her as soon as we get you medical attention?"

"Please," Sherlock begged. "If anything were to happen to her or the baby... I couldn't live with myself. All of this happened because of me."

Mycroft sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sherlock, all of this happened because of me. Not you so do not blame yourself. My lies nearly cost your life."

"Are you... being sentimental, brother mine?"

Mycroft shared his brother's smirk and opened his eyes. "I'm being... emotional, as you put it. Someone has to be strong in this time of need."

"What happens to her?"

"Sherrinford is dealing with that. Do not worry, my little brother. Everything will be back to normal."

Sherlock shook his head. Nothing was ever going to be the same. "What about Mother and Father?"

The elder brother winced. "I am working on that. Mother surely did not waste any time in berating my and 'Ford's actions. She is not a happy woman."

"I should believe that she is not. Do they know about Molly?"

"I thought that it would be best to speak to Molly before entrusting anyone else with the news. After all of this, she may not wish for you to be near the child."

Sherlock nodded. "I would expect nothing less and nothing more. I deserve everything that I have coming."

"You are a good actor, brother mine but, sometimes your persona slips. I know you really love that woman."

"I can't. Loving people gets them killed. Remember Victor Trevor?" Sherlock snapped. "You hid his death from me-"

"Now is not the time. I will explain all once you've recovered. Now sleep..."

Sherlock felt himself getting drowsy and slurred out, "What did you give me?"


	8. Walking Out of His Life

Sherlock woke up to annoyingly beeping machines. Grunting, he blindly took off his IV drip and drew back his covers.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned to glare at Mycroft.

"I wouldn't leave if I were you. Mummy and Daddy are on their way."

The younger Holmes sighed and lifted his feet back into bed before drawing the covers to his waist. "Happy now?"

"Very," Mycroft smiled. "Before you ask, Molly is doing fine."

"And the baby?"

Mycroft shifted in his seat, tapping the top of his umbrella handle nervously. "I think you should speak to Dr Hooper regarding that."

"She lost it." Sherlock deduced, closing his eyes. "She did, didn't she?"

Mycroft sighed. "I... She didn't say anything to me but I had guessed it."

"I have to speak to her,"

The door opened and John Watson entered, relief written on his face. "You're all right. You've been out for hours."

"How are you?"

John shrugged. "Shocked. Still taking everything in. I'll be fine. Have you seen Molly yet?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I've just woken up. I do wish to see her immediately, though."

Nodding, John retrieved the wheelchair from the corner and nudged his head towards it. "In."

"Right now?"

"Whenever else?"

Mycroft stood, giving Sherlock a small smile. "Try not to mess this up, brother mine."

With that, he left the room tapping his umbrella as he left.

...

Mycroft sat back in his office chair, sighing in relief. He had messaged his parents that he had work to do so they would be alone with Sherlock at the hospital. He had promised all of them that he and Sherrinford will take the time to explain all but there was some damage control to be done as well as various of safety precautions.

Picking up the small, green booties, Mycroft remembered the conversation he had with Molly Hooper before his brother's awakening. He had not meant to lie to his dearest brother but it was not his secret nor place to tell.

 _"My-Mycroft..."_

 _"Dr Hooper, I do apologise for my intrusion but... I must ask how you are doing? Sherlock wanted to know, he's very concerned for you."_

 _Molly sighed, biting her lip as she fiddled with the hemming of her covers. "You know. You obviously know."_

 _"It wasn't hard to deduce, Dr Hooper. I do have eyes and ears at all times on my brother. I am also aware of the impromptu call for a doctor's appointment."_

 _"Yes, I am expecting. Twins, but... I don't want Sherlock to know. I want you to let him think that I miscarried after the explosion."_

 _Mycroft tilted his head. "May I ask why you want to do such a thing?"_

 _"Because he doesn't love me. What does he think that we can be a perfect little family? That is BS and you know it, Mycroft."_

 _Mycroft scoffed. "And what happens when he sees that you're clearly still with child? Pregnancies do not stay quiet you know? They are quite obvious."_

 _Molly closed her eyes, clasping her hands. "I need you to do something for me. I've made some calls already using the references from my current boss to transfer me to another workplace but... it's in America. I need you to make sure that my arrival in the States goes smoothly."_

 _The eldest Holmes child's eyes widened. "The States? Yes, I have contacts there, there is no problem but... are you sure, Dr Hooper?"_

 _"I've been thinking about this before everything happened, Mycroft... When I found out that I was pregnant, I made the decision to leave. Telling Sherlock was not part of the plan but I needed something over him so he could stop using. I can't let any child of mine ever think that their father is a junkie."_

 _He understood her reasons but hadn't she admitted her undying love? Sherrinford had managed to inform him of everything that had happened, especially making sure to add that part._

 _"Do you not love my brother?"_

 _Molly's eyes watered as she gave him a glare. "How dare you ask me that. Sherlock knows my answer and well, I already know his."_

 _"Very well." Mycroft stood up. "He will be waking up soon. I wish to be there."_

 _"Go ahead. Remember."_

 _With a nod, he left._

He sighed, placing the booties down.

"Anthea... A large Scotch would do me."

Anthea nodded. "Of course,"

Mycroft watched her leave and he checked his phone to see if he had received anything on Eurus' matter, not that he truly cared.

He just wished that there was someway to save her as well as Sherlock.

...

Molly looked up from slipping her jacket on. "I'm going home."

"Molly, we have to talk..." Sherlock said, gesturing for John to leave.

Getting the message, John patted his shoulder and left, leaving Molly glaring at Sherlock.

"I lost it, you know?"

"Mycroft told me."

Molly gave a bitter chuckle, running her hands down her face. "I was actually a little excited. I didn't know what role you'd play but I knew that I was going to be the best damn mother I could."

"You would have made a splendid mother."

"Don't patronise me." Molly snapped. "I'm leaving."

"You're full of bombshells, aren't you?" Sherlock snapped back before guiltily turning to face her. "Sorry, that was rude of me."

Molly smiled bitterly. "You've always been a bastard. I'm used to it."

Sherlock agreed by nodding. "True. I'm sure everyone is used to it."

"Why are you here?"

"We need to talk. We need to... grieve."

"I'm fine with that on my own, thank you very much."

Sherlock gave a frustrated yell. "You're making this difficult, Molly! I want to put things right if you'd let me!"

She wanted to cry, to sob, to hit him and kick him where the damn sun didn't shine. "It's too late," she whispered, tears slipping down her worn out face. "I'm tired and it's just too late. I love John, Rosie, Mrs Hudson - even Greg - but everything needs to be... different. I need a change, a new start."

"If this is because of the baby-"

"Not just that, Sherlock. It's not me, it's you."

"Isn't the phrase, 'it's not you, it's me?'" He asked.

Molly rolled her eyes. "It is genuinely you, though. Your family even." She sat on the bed and stared him down. "I want to stop loving you. Loving you will get me killed."

"Well, I must respect your decisions..."

"Thank you..." Molly sighed, wiping her face. She felt dirty, tired, grungy and she wanted nothing more than to have a nice, long bath and cuddle with Toby.

Sherlock looked down at his hands rested on his lap. "Will I see you? Before you leave? Ever?"

"I... I don't know."

"Shall we make this goodbye, then?"

Molly nodded and arose, giving him a long hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't get hurt myself." She closed her eyes, hoping he couldn't feel the hardness of her stomach which was currently home to their two children.

Sherlock slipped his hands around her waist and brought her closer, smelling the strawberries from her hair. "Your shampoo... You've changed it again."

"I needed a change," she mumbled.

"I love you."

She sobbed against his shoulder. "Don't say-"

"I remember from that night... I never gave you an answer to your statement of you enjoying what we did. I honestly have never felt so alive since that day or even prior. You bring the best out of me and it will be most sincerely a shame when you leave."

Molly shook her head. "Please, stop..."

"I love you. I even love the fact that you once held my child inside you. I hope that one day, you'll forgive me."

"I... I can't, not yet."

Sherlock shushed her gently. "I know. I said 'one day'. I just want you to know that you'll always be on my mind, wherever you are, whatever you're doing."

"You will seldom be on mine, Holmes."

Sherlock gave a little smirk. "I think we should let go, now."

Nodding, she withdrew her arms from his neck and stepped back, fixing her top. "I think I know how much you wanted to be a father so... whenever John can't, look after Rosie for us, yeah? I know she adores you so much as you adore her."

"Thank you for the advice."

"You're welcome,"

Molly walked to the door and opened it, giving Sherlock a last glance. "Don't be too much of an arsehole, will you?"

"I'll try," Sherlock smiled.

"Good." And she walked out of his life.


	9. Heart Dropping and Crying

When Sherlock had returned to his room with the help of a nurse, he met his parents and John waiting for him.

"How did it go?" John asked him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "She's leaving."

"What about the-"

"Gone."

John drew a deep intake of breath and nodded, standing up from the bed. "Well, I'm off home. Rosie will be missing me."

"Give her a hug from me," Sherlock replied quietly as he lifted himself up on his bed.

After his friend had left, his mother started to pester him. "You could have gotten yourself killed!" She cried, brushing her fingers over his cuts and bruises. "My darling baby..."

"He's not much of a baby, love," Mr Holmes grumbled, putting his newspaper down. "Who did you go to meet?"

"None of your concern, Father."

Mr Holmes scoffed and relaxed back in the uncomfortable seat. "I honestly do not know why we came. We could have been debriefed by your brother but it seems as if he is too busy to."

"Damage control, Father." Sherlock sighed, rubbing his side. "Before you ask, Mother, three ribs."

Mrs Holmes gasped in shock and continued to smother her youngest, pouting at all of his bumps and bruises.

Sherlock honestly did not want to put up with his parents right that moment but he humoured them, replying cynically to their questions and responding monotonously to their observations.

However, he took this to an advantage. "Mummy? Can you do me a favour, please?"

"Anything, darling. Tell Mummy what it is." His mother replied lovingly.

"I need you to buy me something. It's for someone else but I can't leave this hospital until tomorrow and it seems as if they're leaving quite soon."

His mother became intrigued. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"A ring."

...

Molly zipped up the last of her clothing and sighed, rubbing her stomach.

"I'm sorry... I just can't handle all the hurt that he's bringing me or will bring. You understand right?"

 _"Of course, I understand, Molly. You've always been a great girl pal to me and now it's my chance to help you. You've done so much for my John and Rosie so here's me repaying you."_

"I just need someone to talk to when I'm lonely, Mary..." Molly whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. "I feel so alone."

Mary's presence sat down on her bed and crossed her legs, clasping her hands on top of her raised knee. _"I'm not alive but my memory will always be with you, Molly. You can talk to me although you'll be far away from my grave. I'll be above somewhere, watching down like a hawk on all of you."_

"Thank you..." Molly sighed, starting on packing her shoes.

She halted when she heard the doorbell ring. Slowly but cautiously, she made her way to the door and looked through the peeping hole.

Opening the door, she stood aside and let John Watson enter, Rosie in his arms.

"Don't worry, I'm not asking you to babysit. I've only just picked her up."

Molly nodded, smiling at the child as she brought her into her arms. "Hello, Rosie. Did you miss me? I missed you."

John noticed her packed belongings and turned away, sighing. "You're really leaving?"

"Yes, John."

"It-It isn't his fault, you know. I was there, you was there. We know what went on."

The female doctor tilted her head, bouncing her godchild on her hip. "Do we really, John? To be honest, I'm as confused as the next one. I'm leaving and that's final."

"It wasn't his-"

"I lost our child. That makes it his fault." Molly swallowed heavily. She knew her lies would catch up with her one day but for now, she needed to keep up the facade.

John scoffed bitterly. "It was his _sister's_ fault. Molly... please don't make rash decisions because of recent events."

The godmother to his child shook her head, placing the child back into her father's arms. "I made the decision when I found out that I was pregnant," she admitted quietly, pulling the sleeve of her freshly washed top. "I wasn't planning to tell Sherlock but I had to say something to make him stop killing himself."

"I understand." John realised. "I... I think he would have made a great dad. He's good to Rosie so... Just letting you know."

"I know."

John nodded, gesturing to the door. "We should go. I want nothing more than a hot bath and Rosie in front of the TV for at least fifteen minutes,"

Chuckling, Molly led them to the door, placing a kiss on both their cheeks. "Thank you for being part of my family."

"I hope life stays good for you, Molly. Good luck in your future endeavours."

Molly closed the door behind them and went back to her bedroom, continuing to pack her shoes and other accessory items she had missed before.

This was probably one of the most stressful decisions in her life. Leave and be the best mother she could be.

At times like this, Molly wished she had her mum or her dad, at least one parent to coax and guide her at this time.

Molly placed her hands on her stomach and smiled. "You probably haven't even developed your ears yet my children but one day you will and you will understand everything I say."

She smiled at the thought. Raising her two kids in sunny Florida or warm California. New York was an option but she highly doubted that Manhattan was a place to raise two young children. Ohio... her mother had a sister in Ohio. That aunt of hers had probably forgotten that she even existed after her sister's death twenty-eight years ago or so when her niece, Molly, was just a young innocent child.

"So... what do think? Is Florida good for you until you're born?"

...

Anthea smiled gently, placing her hand on Mycroft's forearm.

"You're thinking of Molly Hooper."

Mycroft sighed, downing the rest of his Scotch before checking his phone for texts and replying, "She is having my nieces or my nephews or even one of each. She is refusing to inform Sherlock of their continued existence."

"She told him that she miscarried? How... horrible." Anthea had not been one to like the younger Holmes brother but loving Mycroft meant that she had to deal with his eccentric family.

"Indeed," He sent a quick affirming text to Sherrinford, confirming a visit was in order. "Mother and Father are aware of Eurus' presence so I am arranging a suitable time for them to meet under severely controlled conditions. They berated me for a bit but they wish to see her."

Anthea drew her hand back and poured him a smaller intake of Scotch. "When?"

"Tomorrow. Sherlock has agreed to meet as well. Although, I believe he plots to kill her."

His assistant chuckled gently. "I'd expect nothing more or less of your dearest brother. I hope all goes well."

Mycroft took a sip of his drink and smiled, giving her the rest. "Oh, everything _will_ go well. This time."

Thirty-seven minutes later, he found himself in his brother's hospital room with newly-made bespoke clothing for his brother.

"I figured that you will need new clothes when you leave tomorrow," he said, frowning distastefully at Sherlock's T-Shirt and joggers. "You have an image to uphold."

"I'm in a hospital-"

"Yes, he's in a hospital, Mycroft. Can you bloody not speak about maintaining images when your little brother is unwell?" Their father snapped. "I doubt anyone would be taking pictures. You _are_ the British Government, remember? You're meant to deal with those menial things."

Mycroft scoffed, dumping the clothes unceremoniously onto Sherlock's covered feet. "'Menial things'? Menial my arse, Father."

"Mycroft!" Mrs Holmes scolded, covering Sherlock's ears.

Sherlock brushed them away, frowning deeply at their mother. "I am not a child, you know? I am a highly fully functioning sociopath."

His mother chuckled, pinching his cheeks. "Yes, you are, my darling boy."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Have you got what I need?"

"Yes, I have. It's the perfect size and all!"

Mycroft became intrigued at their little secret. "What is this, exactly?" He asked, eyeing the large gift bag which said 'Get Well Soon' in annoyingly curly writing.

"You're clever, brother mine. Deduce it." Sherlock muttered, looking inside the bag. "Did you get the other thing?"

Mrs Holmes nodded and dug into her Michael Kors handbag, handing him a smaller gift bag with the words 'I Hope You Feel Better!'.

Mycroft sighed, shaking his head. "You seriously believe giving Dr Hooper a ring and a bracelet with the gemstone of what would have been your child's birth month will make her love you again?"

Their parents gasped and Sherlock closed his eyes.

"I-I thought that this was for your girlfriend. The gemstone representing _her_ birthday. Since when have you been... _sleeping_ with her exactly?"

Sherlock almost blushed at his mother's question, taking the box containing the bracelet out of its bag.

"I was going to tell you in my own time. Molly did not want anyone else knowing."

"Knowing what exactly?" Mr Holmes bellowed. "What did your brother mean when he said, 'would have been your child's birth month'?"

He really did not want to get into this with his parents. He was grieving and he honestly wanted to be alone but with the warm cup of teas from Mrs Hudson, the soft chattering from Rosie and the obnoxious rustling of newspaper pages from John.

"We... Molly and I... we were expecting but she miscarried today." Sherlock finally replied.

Mrs Holmes gasped. "Can we see her? Is she all right? I do apologise, my darling!"

"She is leaving so you cannot see her. However, you may see Eurus at her fortress. I will highly suggest that you all leave me to my thoughts as I am currently..."

His heart sped up and he felt almost scared at what he was feeling. He could feel the pressure in his cheeks and eyes. _Am I... Am I going to cry?_ , he thought, panicking.

Mycroft got the message and stood up, helping their mother from her seat. "Let's leave him to rest, shall we? We have a long day tomorrow."

"I... I'm sorry, son." Mr Holmes mumbled as they filed out of his room.

When the door closed, Sherlock's heart completely dropped and he cried.


	10. This is Our Official Goodbye

John smiled, leaving Rosie in her walker before heading towards the front door to answer it.

When he opened it, he found Sherlock standing there with two duffel bags.

"Clothes. Violin." He simply said before entering.

John nodded, although he couldn't see him. "How was your hospital stay?"

"Annoying. Mother couldn't stop coddling me and Father couldn't be arsed." Sherlock replied, heading straight for Rosie. "Hello, Miss Rosie. Did you miss me?"

Rosie gurgled, surprising him with what sounded like a 'yes'.

"She's becoming more and more clever every day," John stated. "She's due for a nap, do you mind? I have to do the laundry."

"Not at all," Sherlock responded, settling the child against his chest. "You'll have to be careful," he whispered gently to her. "I have three broken ribs. Horrible, I know."

Rosie gave a small smile and placed her thumb in her mouth, sighing in content as her blue eyes studied Sherlock's darker ones.

"That's a bad habit but who am I to stop you?" Sherlock could envision doing this with his own child but for now, his goddaughter would suffice.

John soon left them to their own devices and Sherlock sat down on the sofa, cradling the small child.

"Your... Aunt Molly will not be around lately but I hope to change her mind. I'm sure that she will visit you soon."

John sighed as he reentered, holding a basket full of baby clothing. "Actually, we went to see her yesterday. She's leaving and she's definite about that."

"You... you said goodbye?"

"It was more to Rosie than me but yes, we said goodbye." John frowned. "I couldn't convince her to stay."

Sherlock turned away, tears threatening to fall. Where were all these emotions coming from? "If you, her dear friend, cannot convince her then how can I?"

John almost looked desperate. "Try, Sherlock. Try." With that, he continued with his laundry duties, leaving Rosie fast asleep on his best friend's chest who gripped her as tightly as he could without smothering her.

...

Mycroft gave three sharp knocks on the door, ignoring the doorbell. The doorbell was just utterly lazy.

The door opened, well, it was sort of yanked open aggressively.

"Oh! Mycroft, hi. I-I thought that you were the removal services. They've pretty much ditched me, right now."

Mycroft gave a curt nod. "I can have someone here within fifteen minutes. I wish you had told me earlier."

Molly sighed, letting him as she crossed her arms. "I was not expecting them to fail me."

"How are you? How are the children?"

The young doctor gave a small smile. "You may not show it but I know you love them already."

"Blood is mostly thicker than water." Her children's uncle replied. "Unless you have a psychopathic sibling and mundane parents."

Molly giggled, offering a cup of tea which he happily accepted. "So... Have you spoken to Sherlock about my leaving today?"

"No. I have not informed him of your departure today. He only knows that you are leaving as you simply told him."

She rubbed her arm, turning to face Toby who was slyly curling up around Mycroft's legs.

"I want this to go as smoothly and as quickly as possible, please. I cannot bear another day with anything reminding me of _him_. I also want you to help me return some of his belongings."

"Such as?"

Molly shrugged. "Menial things - robe, toothbrush, clothes. Things he left when he was staying."

Mycroft nodded. "I will have the removal service pick that up for me. Dr Hooper... Sherlock has recently purchased some things."

"Such as?" Molly asked.

"A bracelet. And another thing I cannot put my finger on." He said, lying about the other thing. "I believe he wishes to give them to you as soon as possible."

Molly almost whined. She didn't want to see him. They'd already said their goodbyes.

"D-Does he really have to do that? I mean it's not that important, is it? A bracelet... Intimate but, we're not together or anything. It's kind of unnerving."

"He does not wish to make you uncomfortable regarding your current relationship status. He merely wants you to have something to remember him by."

The brunette female nodded, rubbing her face before picking her cat up. "I'll... deal with it."

Mycroft gave her a soft smile, standing up. "Thank you. He is already broken and I do not wish for any more teenage drama to occur."

She chuckled and led him to the door. "You'll look after him for me, won't you? For... us."

Mycroft glanced down at her stomach where she was not prominently showing yet. "For all of you, I'll do my best but you do forget, I am the British Government. Although I claim that title, I cannot control Sherlock's actions. Whether he continues to use after your departure is up to him."

"I know... I just needed you to assure me," she mumbled.

He frowned, placing a stiff hand on her shoulder, not used to showing affection all that much. "I _assure_ you that I will do everything I can to make sure he stays the man you love."

Relief passed through her and she lunged herself at him, giving him a tight hug. "Thank you."

After he had left, Molly proceeded to wait for the removal services. When they had come and left, leaving her tired at 7 PM at night, she finally settled onto her blanket-covered floor as her bed and sofa had both been taken to be shipped.

She made herself comfortable with some candles, a romance book and her woolly jumper for a pillow and sighed in content, picking her bookmark out of its niche to read the current page she was on.

She soon fell asleep just as arms slipped around her waist.

...

Sherlock kept his intense eyes on Eurus who played beautifully along with him, making their parents proud of such a grandeur show.

His sharp bow movements on his tilted violin almost relaxed him and he forgot that he had any romantical issues for that mere hour and a half that he played with his sister, identical to his movements.

He longed to wrap his arms around Molly, kissing her, hugging her, snuggling her. He closed his eyes and Eurus frowned, her playing becoming more dramatic as each second that he had his eyes closed went by.

Mycroft tilted his head to face Sherlock with a frown before turning to face their sister with vengeance in her eyes. Jealousy at whoever had his attention

"Sherlock," he whispered.

Sherlock opened his blue eyes, keeping them trained on Eurus. She had now started to play normally.

"Don't they play splendidly, my boys?" Mrs Holmes asked, turning to face her eldest sons.

Sherrinford chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Well, according to you, I have no sense of musical talent or appreciation so they get a mere 'humph' from me."

"Don't be rude, 'Ford." Their father scolded lightly.

Mycroft chuckled at his brother's comment and continued to nod his head to the music. "I agree with Mummy, 'Ford. They do play best when they're together."

Sherlock drew the piece to an end and placed his violin down back into its case and into his bag.

"That piece..." Eurus suddenly said, gaining his full attention as well as their family's. "It was... sadder than normal. Who is plaguing your mind?"

"No one."

"You were thinking about _her_. That... woman. Does she have more value than I do?"

Sherlock glanced to the sides, continuing to zip up his bag. "She will always hold more value than you."

With that, he stood up, bag in hand and left back up the lift.

He was glad for the waiting helicopter and closed his eyes, sighing in relief. Although it was easier to communicate with his sister, she still had the tendency to pry into his private matters. According to him, _she was still a stranger_.

When he arrived back in London, he told the waiting car to take him to his 'second usual place' and the driver complied, keeping his eyes on the road as Sherlock kept his on the dark streets of London.

After arriving, he collected his bag and dug into his pockets for his spare key.

 _Don't tell me I've lost it... I'm not in the mood for this,_ he thought.

Fishing it finally out of his inside pocket, he unlocked the door and quietly entered, the warm illuminated living room calming him.

He took his coat off, placed his bag on the floor by the door and sat down on the ground, lying on his side.

He then proceeded to dig into his pocket and retrieve two boxes reaching over to place it down on the floor. After that, did he then wrap his arms smoothly around her waist and dig his head into her neck, smelling her scent.

"Goodnight, Molly. This is our official goodbye."


	11. Do Not Worry

Molly woke up an hour and a half later, feeling something restrict her waist. Panicking, she pried the arms off and got up to see Sherlock settling back into a comfortable position, turning away from her as he slept.

Molly gasped, backing into the wall as she tried not to wake him up. She looked at the time, 8:30 PM. Her flight was due to leave at quarter to 10.

Returning to her makeshift bed, she spotted two neatly silver-wrapped boxes. Curious, she picked them both up and opened them, gasping in awe.

 _I... I can't accept these_ , she thought glumly.

Sherlock started to stir and she quickly placed the boxes back into their spot and crossed her arms.

"Sherlock. Wh-what are you doing here?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and sat up, turning to face her. "You're awake."

"I am. I have to be awake."

Sherlock finally noticed the boarding pass laid on her handbag, on top of her zip. "You're leaving tonight." He stated.

"Sherlock... I... We have said our goodbyes, remember? I need to go." Molly sighed.

He stood up, gently grabbing her forearms. "I know but I wanted you to have something to remember me by. To remember our child."

Molly's eyes drifted down to the boxes and Sherlock bent down to pick them up and give them to her.

She hesitantly took them and reopened the bracelet box. "It's beautiful." She mumbled before opening the ring box. "Are you planning on proposing?"

Sherlock hesitated before shaking his head. "No. Quite the opposite. It's a promise ring."

"Why?" Molly almost whined, twirling the ring between her fingers.

"I believe that maybe one day we can be together. I want to give this to you so that you know that I will always love you and I will be waiting."

Molly nodded, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "You really mean that?" She whispered.

Sherlock took the ring from her and slipped it onto her right ring finger. "I do." He then took the bracelet and slipped it onto her left wrist. "I do."

Molly started to laugh, wiping her tears. "I feel horrible now. I got you nothing and here you are with two pieces of jewellery that cost more than my salary."

Sherlock chuckled, placing a kiss on her forehead. "It was free, just so you know. My mother's a jeweller but now I suppose I owe her."

She giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek before standing back and spotting his bag. "I don't suppose you have a violin in there?"

He nodded and retrieved it for her. She took it gratefully and placed the Stradivarius between her cheek and shoulder, holding the bow with her right hand.

"Bear in mind that I've not played since I was a teenager, after my father's death..."

Sherlock was shocked but also intrigued. He had never seen her as one to be musically talented but then again, he never knew teenage Molly as she had never known emotional, childlike Sherlock.

Gently, she started to play, almost timidly as if she were afraid of damaging the antique violin. Her movements were gentle, quiet, smooth... Almost like a lullaby.

Sherlock sat down on the blankets and Molly joined him, kneeling as she continued to play her piece.

They stayed there, Sherlock focused on her sad melody, recording her with his phone so he would never forget this moment and Molly stiff but gently playing for fifteen minutes.

When she played her final note, she placed the violin in his arms and sighed. "I made that when I was eighteen, going on nineteen. I wasn't allowed to go to my father's funeral so I composed it before his wake. I played that in front of our friends and family and when I had finished, I looked around to see shocked faces. I, myself, never knew I had that in me."

"It was... majestic," Sherlock whispered. "Has it got a name?"

"No... But I think I'll name it, 'Hooper'. It's simple, it's my father's name and my maiden name, why not?"

"I would have thought of something better but I believe it fits..." Sherlock replied, glancing at the time. "You should head to the airport now, otherwise you'll be stuck in useless lines and miss your flight."

Molly kissed his cheek, letting it linger before she went to get her two suitcases from her room.

Sherlock took the time to play his violin, the melody becoming sadder and depressing. He would call it, 'Molly's Song'.

"Beautiful," Molly stated, putting her coat on. "You-you can stay here for a bit longer if you want," she said, bending down to pick up her book and jumper to put into her travel handbag. "The lease finishes in three days in case you're tired of sleeping near a crying or energetic child."

Sherlock gave her a smile. "Thank you."

Molly nodded. "Well, I'll see you."

"Goodbye, Molly Hooper."

"Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes," Molly whispered, turning away so he couldn't see the fresh tears making down her cheeks. She quickly left with her belongings and did not look back. If she did, she'd want to run back into his warm arms.

...

John smiled sympathetically at Sherlock who immediately went to lie down on the couch.

"She's gone for good, then?"

He was met with a groan.

Chuckling, he went to find his secret stash of Brandy, not that he needed to hide it anymore since his dead wife could not get her hands on it.

"I'm having a Brandy. Care to have one?"

Sherlock raised an arm up, giving him a thumbs up as he groaned again.

"Damn, love's really got you messed up. You're replying like an ape," John smirked, pouring a double for Sherlock and a single for himself. "I've made a double."

"Humph..." Sherlock replied, turning his body to face the ceiling. "Triple?"

"No," John shook his head. "You're on Rosie duty."

Sherlock glared at the ceiling. "Should have taken up her offer to stay at her flat," he mumbled to himself.

John looked up. "Hmm? What?"

"Nothing, Watson. Just give me that glass."

His best friend raised a bemused eyebrow up and handed him his glass, watching him down it in one go before cringing and wincing.

"Slow down."

"More."

Watson shook his head, almost laughing. "Just like Rosie when she begs for more juice. I'm sorry, Sherlock but no more, okay?" He said teasingly.

"I, unlike Rosie, can get things for myself."

"As you please," John shrugged, sipping from his glass. "What are you doing tomorrow?" John asked, watching as Sherlock quickly deduced which cupboard held the goods and poured two glass of triple Brandy for himself.

Sherlock shrugged. "Meeting Eurus. I have something to show her."

"What?"

Sherlock slipped his phone out from his pocket and threw it, not looking where it landed. John had just managed to place his glass down to save the phone.

"Damn it, Sherlock! These phones come expensive, you know?"

"I have more where that comes from," Sherlock replied nonchalantly. "Check my videos. You know my password."

John smirked when he typed in Molly's name and gained access to the phone. "You should change it,"

"Unless I know her middle name, I won't..." Sherlock replied, drinking from his first glass.

Watson gave him a look. "There's this thing called Facebook."

"As of July 2015, Molly deactivated her account due to some personal matters," Sherlock responded, turning to face his best friend.

John scoffed. "Of course, you'd know that." He muttered, spotting a video of Molly playing the violin. Surprised, he clicked on it and soon the soft, sad melody filtered the room.

"Doesn't she play wonderfully?"

John nodded, agreeing. "She does. I-I never even knew that she played."

"Neither did I. I'm guessing she is no stranger to the piano as well."

"Molly Hooper... the gift that just keeps on giving and getting better." John smiled proudly at the video. "I bet Eurus will be jealous of the attention you give to Molly."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She's jealous of any attention I give to _anyone_."

John chuckled and leant back against the armchair, continuing to admire the fifteen-minute video.

...

Molly jumped when her name came through the speakers, requesting her presence at the departure desk.

"Dr Molly Hooper to please make your way to the desk."

She quickly put her book back in her handbag and stood up, slipping the bag onto her shoulder as her heels frantically click-clacked against the marble floor, searching for the front desk.

When she arrived she was met by a smiling employee. "You've been upgraded to the VIP room and First-Class flight." She said, handing Molly her new boarding pass and VIP card. "Your current flight will be refunded fully."

Shocked, Molly handed over her old pass and accepted her new one.

"Someone will direct you over to the VIP suite." The stewardess said, handing Molly over to her male colleague who happily offered to help her with her bag.

Hesitantly, she gave her handbag to the employee and followed him to the VIP suite, gesturing for her to use her newly given pass.

After it beeped green, they entered and the man led her to a turned armchair by the viewing window. He placed her handbag down on the sofa and left, nodding at her and asking that if she needed anything, the bartender in the room will help her.

"Thank you," Molly smiled, sitting down comfortably on the plush sofa and relaxing down on it.

Jumping, she found the armchair in front of her had turned and revealed Mycroft.

"I wished to see you before you left."

"Oh, hello." She finally said, patting her heart to stop it from completely exiting her chest.

Mycroft gave a soft chuckle. "I do apologise for frightening you. I do like my dramatic entrances."

Molly chuckled, shaking his hand. "It is fine, Mycroft. To whom do I owe the pleasure?" She teased.

"Myself, of course. I wished to present you with some gifts. Parting gifts, if you will."

Clicking his fingers, Anthea entered with a large gift bag and gave it to Molly.

"Congratulations on your expectancy, Dr Hooper."

Molly thanked her, accepting the bag and opening its contents.

Inside were two pairs of green booties, two green woolly hats, four pairs of baby grows and onesies and finally, two personalised silver baby rattles.

"I thought these gifts..., fitting."

Molly's eyes watered as she read the inscription on the rattles. "What do these Latin words mean?"

Mycroft smiled. "' _Infantem amatoribus_ ' which means ' _The baby of lovers'_. I found it fitting."

"My Latin failed me," Molly smiled softly. "Thank you, Mycroft. I seriously do appreciate these gifts."

"Anything more that you need, do not hesitate to ask. You have my number and I will give you the personal number of my American contact if you cannot reach me. I sure hope that you call during your pregnancy."

Molly nodded. "I promise. At least once a week but whenever I can find time. My new job requires such longer hours but offers me a great maternity deal."

"Wonderful." Mycroft grinned. "I do not want you stressing yourself at all."

The brunette female looked almost anxious to ask but she had to. "Can you give me updates whenever we speak to each other? About Sherlock?"

"It will be my obligation to. Do not worry."


	12. I Hope So Too

**Molly's got some new co-workers, can you guess what BBC TV show they're based on? ;)**

* * *

Sherlock placed his bag down and collected his violin and phone.

"I want you to hear something," he said, unlocking his phone. "You might think that you've ruined this one thing for me but you haven't. I should thank you because, without your intervention, I would have never heard something as beautiful as this." And he played the video.

Eurus' interest peaked and she finally turned as she sat, staring intently at the video.

Mycroft stood up to gain a better view of the phone and was surprised to see Molly playing. _She can play_ now?, he thought curiously.

When the fifteen-minute video ended, Sherlock returned his phone to his inside suit pocket and placed his violin in its natural place between his chin and shoulder.

"She doesn't sound as sad as you," Eurus stated, retrieving her violin. "Is that why she holds more value than me?"

"No."

Eurus started to play, her questions now becoming her melody.

'What makes her hold more value than me? Your sister, flesh and blood?'

Sherlock responded by adding a bit of vibrato. 'The fact that she is not flesh and blood. To me, water is thicker than blood although that is scientifically incorrect.'

Eurus almost chuckled, her melody becoming more sadder by the minute. 'What about Mummy? Or Daddy? Or even our good old brothers?'

'They hold more value than you do although not as much as Molly or John.'

'Ah, Watson... Good old Dr Watson and little Rosie was it?'

'Don't mention Rosie's name. Do not even dare speak of her.'

Eurus smirked. 'Getting protective of your little pet's daughter, now? I wonder why they made you godfather. You aren't exactly the caring type, are you?'

'Nor are you but who's complaining?'

'We are programmed, little brother, to filter out any signs of emotional context such as love. I am beginning to understand your infatuation with Molly Hooper.'

Sherlock turned away from her, his hands shaking a little more. 'You are the reason why I cannot comprehend emotional context but I thank you for that as I am getting help from those I love and care about. After murdering my best friend from my childhood, something in me clicked and I am relieved to say that it is coming back.'

'Why? Why do you want something so distasteful and distracting back?'

'Eurus, if you haven't noticed... we _are_ unfortunately humans. I doubt we were sent from Space to destroy the Earth.'

Eurus smiled brightly. 'I would have liked that. That would have made things more fun. Unfortunately, this life would suffice.'

She ceased playing.

"Time's up. Please leave the way you came through. You too, Crofty."

Sherlock halted his playing abruptly and placed his violin into its case gently before putting that into his bag and leaving.

...

John turned to face Sherlock again. "Are you sure you want to do this alone?"

His friend nodded, straightening his Belstaff. "I have to. I think it's better if Mr and Mrs Trevor hear this from me."

"I can be in there, you know? For support."

"I appreciate that John, I really do but... this is also for me. This is the closure that I had never got when I was a child. I had done so much to block him out, I think I owe him to do this alone and not be the coward I was as a child."

John sighed sadly. "You were a child, Sherlock. You weren't a coward for being traumatised."

"I believe that I was. Wait here."

Sherlock got out of the car, courtesy of Mycroft as he was also close to the family, once close with a distant cousin of young Victor's.

The young detective made his way to the gates and buzzed the button, the intercom coming to life.

[Hello?]

"Hello, it's Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes, we spoke on the phone?"

[Oh! Dear boy, do come in!]

The gates opened and Sherlock strolled into the compound, nervously straightening out his Belstaff again and fixing his curls.

He made his way to the front door and it forcefully opened, revealing an old grey-haired man who smiled brightly.

"As I live and breathe... it's the young detective that's always in the papers! How are you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock took a deep breath before mustering up a smile and shaking the elder man's hand. "I've been well, thank you. You?"

Oliver Trevor gulped loudly, gesturing for Sherlock to follow him. "It's been difficult, these past few years. Leona... she suffered an aneurysm seven years ago and has never been the same. To be honest, she has never been the same since... since Vicky."

"I apologise, Mr Trevor." Sherlock frowned, finally being led to where his young best friend's mother sat watching the garden by the window. "Mrs Trevor? It's me, Sherlock." Sherlock said, kneeling down beside her.

Leona turned to face Sherlock, a small smile gracing her lips. "Look, Ollie... it's that Holmes boy that our Vicky played with. Call Vicky for him, will you? Tell him his friend is here." She said gently.

Sherlock could feel the tears threatening to fall from her cheeks and timidly went to dry a stray one from the corner of her eye. "It's fine, Mrs Trevor. I do not wish to disturb Vicky."

"Always were such a good boy, Sherl..." Her eyes darkened. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Oliver!"

Oliver rushed to comfort his wife, placing a loving hand on her shoulder. "Leona, it's okay. Look, it's Sherlock Holmes. He's come to visit us. Don't you remember our Vicky's dear friend?"

Leona took a good look at Sherlock before breaking out into a smile. "Boy, he's grown! Hasn't he, Ollie? He looks so handsome! Our Vicky is handsome too, Sherlock. He comes to sort my garden twice a week!"

"How about you take a small nap before dinner, Leona. Holmes-boy and I have to talk."

"Men things?" Leona smirked, rocking her chair gently.

Oliver chuckled. "Men things, my love. Come on, dear boy."

Sherlock followed Oliver into the kitchen, where they sat in the breakfast nook as Leona's nurse made tea for them.

"You see how bad she is, Sherlock..." Mr Trevor sighed, rubbing his face. "At least she recognised you."

Sherlock almost hesitated in asking. "She said that Victor comes to sort out her garden. Does she not remember that..."

Oliver sighed, nodding. "Our gardener's about your age. Light brown hair, brown eyes, the whole debacle. He is her interpretation of our Vicky's older self."

"I'm so sorry..." Sherlock mumbled, thanking the nurse for his tea. He drank it black, not bothering to add any luxuries as he remembered that John was still waiting in the car.

"I never once asked you how you were following Vicky's disappearance. Leona and I could seldom hear your screams during the night when you were a child."

"I was traumatised, sir. In the end, I guess that I completely rewrote history to make me feel safer and better."

Oliver leant in a little, rejecting the offer of tea. "May I ask what you rewrote?"

"It will hurt..." Sherlock gently warned. "I made myself, forced myself, to believe that Victor was my dog who I named 'Redbeard' but I also forgot to remember that my father was indeed allergic to dogs so we never even had one."

Oliver moved back, settling his back against the seat. "Children are very delicate things, Sherlock. I am not surprised nor hurt at all. Your parents did everything they could to comfort you as well as us but nothing seemed to work for both sides."

They sat in silence, Oliver finally taking his tea and putting cream, milk and two spoonfuls of sugar in it.

"I know what happened to Victor."

Mr Trevor gave a non-surprised look and nodded. "You do." He more or less stated.

"He drowned. There was an excavation at our old home and well, my associate found his bones at the bottom of a well, between our homes. He will need your DNA to compare to and confirm this but I know it's Victor and I am so sorry."

Sherlock allowed a few tears to fall. He had received the information from Mycroft (who gave it unwillingly, afraid of his brother's current mental state) and then sent the facts to Lestrade who conducted the search and eventually found the young child's remains.

"I will come. To give my DNA sample but Leona must not know about this, okay?" Mr Trevor begged.

"You have my word, Oliver," Sherlock replied, receiving a pat on the back from the older man.

Oliver looked outside to where Sherlock's car was waiting and gave him a small smile. "I believe your friend is becoming impatient."

"Please," Sherlock scoffed. "It's only been twenty minutes."

Mr Trevor bellowed, sipping his tea. His eyes glanced down to Sherlock's hands and the young detective found himself becoming cautious about them, opting to slip them further into his sleeves.

"Those look nasty. How did you do it?"

Sherlock gave him a small smile. "I fought with a coffin."

Oliver laughed and Sherlock joined him. "You always were a strange little kid... You always were."

...

Molly sighed in relief when she stepped into her newly decorated bungalow in sunny Orlando, Florida.

The driver - Mycroft's, who else? - helped her with her suitcases, declining her offer to help.

"Dr Hooper, I am under strict instructions to make sure that you are comfortable and not stressed," George said, wheeling them in. "I could take them to your room unless you want that bit of independence?" He teased.

Molly laughed. "I can take it from here, thanks, George."

George soon left, leaving her comfortable in her new home. Something wrapped around her legs and Molly gasped, picking up her beloved cat, Toby.

"Mycroft sent you didn't he?" She cooed. "I'm so glad you're here with me. We can be alone together."

The cat purred, reaching to play with her hair and Molly giggled, kissing his fur lovingly.

She took her phone from her pocket and looked at her to-do list in her notes.

"I'm going to have to leave you again, Tobes. I got Dr Stamford - Mike - to call and tell him of my safe arrival and I've got to visit my new workplace to confirm my presence."

Toby hissed but snuggled up to her before jumping out of her arm and running over to his new bed by the TV.

"Yeah, you stay there." Molly chuckled, phoning Mike Stamford.

After her call, she grabbed her new keys from the kitchen counter and her bag before leaving outside to see a note stuck onto her door as she turned to lock it.

It said, 'Your new vehicle is secured in the garage. Enjoy - MH'.

Molly smiled, pressing a button on her keys to see the garage door roll up, showing a brand new SUV. Perfect for a little family.

"You sure do impress, Mycroft." She mumbled, checking out the new car before getting inside to admire it more.

It took her 45 minutes to get to her new place after false directions from her Sat-Nav but she wasn't late nonetheless.

She sat in her car for five minutes, studying the new high-tech building which would fulfil her career choice. She almost felt anxious. She had spoken to her new boss, Thomas - or Tom as he preferred - Wilson and he had seemed nice, telling her that he was a fellow Londoner who got a hefty bonus and promotion to work in America. He was good friends with Mike so that assured her even more.

Tom had spoken briefly of her new co-workers. Most from the UK too which should help her settle in very quickly. There was Emilia Alexander, a pathologist who had moved to the States after the death of her dear husband, only being 34. There was Rhys Hodgson - a Scottish - and forensics analyst who had a brother in jail and he had sadly provided evidence to put him there and he was the youngest being 32. And lastly, Liz. Molly didn't know much about her nor what the American did as she was barely seen - in and out and a frequent flyer - and she was in her mid-sixties so barely even spoke to the younger co-workers. Molly sort of hoped that she didn't meet this 'Liz', yet.

After pondering, she finally exited her car and walked up to the building, surprised at the automatic doors. Impressed she made her way to the reception, only to see it empty.

"H-Hello?"

She jumped when a door to her right beeped open and she was met with a smiling blonde with brown eyes.

"Dr Molly Hooper? Tom said you'd stop by."

Molly nodded, offering her hand to shake. "Yeah, I just wanted to have a little induction. You must be Emilia...?"

The blonde nodded. "Dr Emelia Alexander. Tom has been called out to a meeting so I'm the one who will be showing you around if that's okay?"

"That's fine. I was kind of anxious to meet him anyway. Anxious to meet everyone."

Emilia smiled and went to the reception desk to collect a key card. "Like every business, we have security measures aka key cards. Here is yours."

Molly smiled proudly at the shiny card containing a photo of her from her St. Bart's days and she placed the lanyard around her neck.

"Follow me," Emilia said, clocking back into the right room as Molly quickly clocked in.

Emilia gestured to various of rooms, explaining what the conference room was for, the Chapel of Rest, staff room, personal offices and forensics lab as well as the morgue.

"I'm sure you're familiar with all of these but it helps to be reminded," Emilia said gently. "That's Liz. She's nice when you get to know her. Dr Fontaine is a forensics analyst."

Molly saw the brunette hard at work, using her microscope to identify different substances. She then saw a tall brunette man enter, smiling jokingly at Liz.

"That's Rhys. The only one Liz allows to get close to her. He is what we call 'Jack of All Trades' and the joker here. Don't worry, he's harmless and he can really be deep with you when you want him to. He's a big softie inside if you mind the muscles," Emilia joked, making Molly giggle.

"I was a bit scared to know Liz."

Emilia nodded. "From what Tom likes to say, she's like a vampire. Sucks on your blood and leaves you hanging. Don't worry, she's fine."

Molly gasped subtly when Rhys turned to her, his sharp blue eyes reminding her of Sherlock's.

He gave her a smile and a small wave before saying something to Liz who waved him away, determined to not get disturbed by him. He then proceeded to walk to the door and open it, the glass door settling back into place when he stood in front of them.

"Aye, Dr Molly Hooper. Nice to meet you." He said, shaking her hand.

She gave a polite smile, forcing herself not to wince at how strong his grip seemed. "You must be Rhys."

"Yeah, don't hold a doctorship like the rest do but I get on well." He chuckled. "I hope you'll fit in just fine here."

Molly gave him a brighter smile. "I hope so, too."


	13. Silence

Sherlock pushed open the doors to the morgue, John and Oliver Trevor behind him. They were met with a smiling but sympathetic Dr Mike Stamford.

"Dr Stamford," Sherlock said, nodding at him briefly. "This is Oliver Trevor, Victor's... Victor's father."

Oliver shook the old doctor's hand and turned to face Sherlock. "What happens now?"

Dr Stamford led the men over to an examination table, taking the time to withdraw the sheet from the bones.

Sherlock let out a small gasp as Oliver sighed, placing a hand on his head.

"They're so small..." Oliver mumbled.

"There were no obvious indentations to the head nor body so Victor must have drowned."

Oliver gulped. "Would he have suffered?"

Dr Stamford replied with a sigh and a shrug. "I honestly cannot tell without a decaying body. These bones are at least three decades old. Dental records confirm Victor Trevor's identification but I will still need you to provide something for us to further confirm that fact, Mr Trevor."

Mr Trevor nodded. "We should get it over and done with. I-I want to bury my son."

Sherlock, on the other hand, stood back silently. He had not come across his dead best friend's remains and he felt himself becoming sadder at the fact. He should have searched more when he was a child. Maybe Victor would still be alive, alive somewhere safe and living his life, probably married with his third child on the way.

Sherlock closed his eyes and felt John's hand touch his shoulder in comfort. Going into his Mind Palace, he updated the one marked 'Victor Trevor', installing the picture of his bones in the file.

Closure had not been met yet as a funeral was still needed to be planned.

After the short visit, Sherlock invited Oliver to meet his parents at a high-end café for some afternoon tea.

They found Sherlock's parents waiting patiently at their assigned table, a tray of sweet and savoury treats already laid out.

"I-I went and ordered our snacks. It was just the party ensemble." Mrs Holmes mumbled, standing along with her husband.

Oliver smiled as best as he could and gave Mrs Holmes a hug before shaking Mr Holmes' hand firmly.

"Oliver," Mr Holmes acknowledged.

"Timothy." Mr Trevor replied as they took their seats along with Sherlock and John.

Mrs Holmes smiled brightly, ushering a waiter to take their orders. "Oliver, how have you been? How is dear Leona?"

"Leona's been taken unwell, Wanda."

The Holmes parents gasped.

"Surely, it isn't serious?" Timothy asked, alarmed.

Oliver nodded somberly. "Unfortunately, it is. She suffered an aneurysm seven years ago and well she has early dementia."

"Oh, my Lord!" Wanda cried, gripping her husband's hand. "We surely must visit her, Timothy. Oliver, is that all right? We can bring Mycroft and Sherrinford as well as Sherlock."

Oliver gave them a sad smile. "I'm sure she would like that. You obviously know how it feels to lose a child, especially... Eurus."

Timothy and Wanda shared a glance between them before nodding understandingly at their good friend.

"How is Mycroft doing? I hear he is the British Government and no longer carrying all that, you know, extra baggage." Oliver said, making John and Sherlock laugh.

Sherlock decided to reply. "He's become somewhat of a health nut. Sherrinford is also doing well, as expected in his new job."

"Good to hear," Oliver smiled. "What are we waiting for? Let's tuck in."

...

Molly finally entered her home, placing the keys on the kitchen counter before turning on the lights. She turned and jumped when she spotted Mycroft sitting comfortably on her new armchair.

"Molly," he smiled. "Your new home is exquisite. I am glad to have admired it."

Molly chuckled and sat in front of him on her sofa. "Thank you, Mycroft. Thank you for visiting me."

"I had to ensure your safe arrival for myself," Mycroft replied. "I can't take too long, though, I have a quick flight back to London to resume my duties. Sherlock cannot be unwatched for one second."

She gave him a small grin, bending down to pick up Toby and place him on her lap. "Well, I appreciate the visit. Would you like anything?"

"No. But I have taken it upon myself to see your fridge being stocked with healthy foods for your pregnancy as well as your cupboards."

"Oh," Molly smiled. "Thanks. I had planned to go food shopping later as I settled for eating out today."

Mycroft gave her a firm nod. "Well, I saved you the trip down to the nearest Walmart which is twenty-two minutes away."

Molly smiled gently, "Of course, you'd know that." She started to fiddle with Toby's fur, looking down as she did so. "How are John and Rosie?"

"As expected. I believe that John's taking the time to prepare a small gathering for Sherlock's birthday." Mycroft replied, his long fingers rubbing the top of his umbrella handle.

"Yes... Sherlock's birthday. I had planned to give him a cake or something but I guess America doesn't express-deliver delicatessens."

Mycroft smiled at Molly's brief plunge into European dialect and nodded. "I could deliver it."

"Sherlock's birthday is next week, I doubt it can survive that long but I'll tell you what, I did pack some things for him."

Molly stood up, placing Toby on the ground before heading over to a box marked 'Do Not Touch' in the events of the magical pixies that happened to completely rearrange and design her home. She retrieved a scarf and perfume bottle.

"This... This was Sherlock's. Well, it still is - I took it from him a while back." Molly stumbled across her words as she wrapped the perfume bottle in the scarf. "It's his favourite perfume. Don't ask how I know," she smirked lightly before handing the gift to Mycroft.

"Secret's safe with me. I'll make sure he gets it next week. Do you wish for me to give it to him or...?"

"I want it to look like it's been sent from here but don't put too much effort into it. He is Sherlock, after all."

Mycroft agreed, chuckling. "True, true. Well, I have my car waiting that has just pulled up. I will make sure to visit in the near future."

"Don't inconvenience yourself for me, Mycroft."

"No, no. It's not just you that I will be checking up on. I have an acquaintance who lives in New York. Being me, I promised to visit quite soon but I had never had the thought to until you moved here."

Molly smiled brightly. "How sweet. Is it a woman?"

The uncle to her children guffawed, shaking his head. "Well, yes but not that _woman_ if you get what I mean. She's a friend of a friend."

"Ah," Molly replied, clasping her hands together. "Well, it was really nice to see you. Give... never mind. It was nice to see you."

Mycroft stood up, leaning his umbrella on top of his shoulder before walking over to the door. "I'll make sure to give my brother your love."

With that, he left making Molly feeling more colder than before.

...

"She's learning, you know?"

John's focus on dinner halted as he turned to face his best friend. "Sorry?"

Sherlock nudged an eyebrow towards Rosie who stuck her tongue out in determination, watching her father move about in the kitchen.

She had managed to place her little chubby hands on the sofa and pull herself up, wobbly moving against the sofa with a slight grin on her face.

"Within the month, she should be walking," Sherlock stated. "Who's a clever girl, Rosie? You are. Soon, I'll start teaching you some scientific laws."

John chuckled, returning to stirring the pasta sauce. "She's not even one, yet. Give her a break."

"Well, by her responses to some of my questions, she seems to understand..." Sherlock argued, picking the child up in order to prove a point. "Don't you, Rosie?"

Rosie babbled, placing a cold hand on his cheeks. She then put her other one on his other cheek and squished them together, giggling as she did so.

"Yes, Rosie. Uncle Sherlock looks strange." John called back, seeing what she was doing from the reflection given by the metal spoon.

Sherlock gave her a teasing glare before putting her on the seat beside him, Rosie immediately trying to climb back down to her toys.

"I would not mind one, you know?"

"Mind what?" John asked, turning to face him as he wiped sauce from his shirt.

"A... One of my own." Sherlock replied quietly.

John's eyes widened, the dish rag slowly making its place back on the counter as he sat across from Sherlock on the armchair.

"You really wanted to be a dad, didn't you?" John asked, already knowing the answer. "I told Molly that-"

"-I know that she is still pregnant."

John sputtered, gaining the attention of Rosie. "Wh-what? She's still...? But she-"

"I am not one to be easily fooled, Watson..." Sherlock said glumly. "I decided to go with it because it was what she wanted. Her telling me would prevent her from moving on and healing. I couldn't stop her from leaving, could I?"

"She can't stop you from seeing your kid, though!" John argued. "She's bloody moved to America, still pregnant and she's there indefinitely. She can't expect to just lie to you, Sherlock and run away. I love Molly; she's my good friend and godmother to my child but what she's done - doing - to you... I'm sorry, I can't accept that."

Sherlock watched John stand up, his phone suddenly in his hand and he frowned. "What are you doing, John?"

John placed the phone on his ear. "What do you think? I'm calling Mycroft, see if he can find her."

"There's no need. I already know where she is." Sherlock replied nonchalantly.

The doctor scoffed. "Of course, you know," He muttered. "But you two really need to talk about this and Mycroft can connect you."

"Why does it have to be Mycroft to connect us? It's none of his business and I highly doubt that he would be glad getting involved in my personal matters. Also, I can call her whenever I want - within the reasonable hours of the day as there is a time difference of five hours - but I do not want to nor wish to. I want to give her the space she deserves. If I do not give her that then, what is to say she never comes back after feeling pressured to?" Sherlock replied. "And face it, Watson," his eyes suddenly darkened, becoming greyer. "I am not exactly father material, am I?"

John's hand slackened and he cancelled the call, not getting through to the eldest Holmes brother anyway. He sighed and returned back to making dinner, making sure to turn back at Sherlock playing with Rosie's hair.

"Sherlock..." He said gently. "Fathers come in all shapes and sizes. You don't have to be 'father material' to be a father."

With that, the rest of the evening was in silence.


	14. Dreamless Sleep

Emilia studied Molly who fiddled with the ring on her finger as Rhys gave his report on findings from the current case they were solving.

"Emilia?"

She snapped her head away from Molly and towards Tom's expecting gaze. "Sorry?"

"I'm sure Dr Hooper would be fine without your watchful eye," he joked lightly. "Your pathology report?"

Emilia took Rhys' place in front of the electronic board and cleared her throat before giving her report. "...and Dr Hooper had managed to spot something which I didn't. If it weren't for her, we would have missed one of the vital evidence to put away the suspect."

Tom looked approvingly at Molly who seemed as if her mind was elsewhere. "Dr Hooper?"

Molly smiled, turning to face him. "Sorry. Baby brain."

Tom chuckled loudly, making the room laugh. "Of course. You are quite all right. I wanted to applaud you on your sharp eyes, Emilia seems very grateful to have you here to help her as I cannot no longer due to increased workload."

Molly turned her smile to Emilia who smiled shyly back. "You're welcome, Dr Ale-"

"Emilia. Just Emilia."

After the report, Rhys invited Molly to join him and Emilia for coffee (or tea as the natives from the UK loved) in the staff room whilst Liz accompanied Tom to another meeting regarding their current case.

"So... what's on your mind?" Emilia asked, sipping her fruit tea.

The brunette female laughed lightly, shaking her head. "It's nothing, honestly. It's just one... one of those days."

Rhys clicked his tongue. "Ah. I get them too although I'm not pregnant. It's scientifically impossible to be." He said, making the females laugh. "But seriously, Molly, if there's anything bothering you then Em and I are here to talk to."

"It's... The father of my... it's his birthday today." Molly admitted quietly as she twisted the ring around her finger.

"Have you wished him a happy birthday?" Emilia asked, curiously glancing down at the ring,

Molly shook her head. "No. No, I haven't. It's complicated."

"Like that engagement ring on your finger?"

Their eyes cast down to the gold-silver diamond on her finger and Molly gave a small smile.

"It's a promise ring. Well, when we're ready, it will substitute as an engagement ring but I don't believe that he will ever be ready." Molly replied her smile becoming sadder.

Emilia frowned, disregarding her tea. "Why don't you believe so, Molly?"

"He's a complicated man. He would not marry for love but for convenience and comfort. The fact that he is the father of my children also adds to that."

"Do you love him?" Rhys asked. "Do you think about him all the time? Wish that you were with him?"

Molly nodded desperately. "But I can't be with him. No matter if he loves me or not because I need my space. Something intense happened between us due to certain circumstances and we can't turn back from that. We need to move on and try to start again but not now. Now is too soon."

"But he's-"

"I know that and I will never keep them away from him but for now, him not knowing is helping me heal..." Molly said, sighing. "Being away from him is a really good thing and you guys don't even know it."

...

Sherlock accepted the hugs and kisses and mild insults from his friends and family as gifts were also thrown his way.

He'd rather be anywhere but there, to be honest. Somewhere wrapped in her arms with soft kisses and sweet nothings...

"Rosie's got something for you, Sherlock," John said, cutting into his thoughts.

John placed the child on the ground and she easily pushed herself up and took a few wobbly steps towards her godfather, a proud grin playing on her lips.

Sherlock gasped and when she collapsed into his arms in giggles, he held her tightly and praised her. "Who's a clever girl, Rosie? You are. I told your father that you are an advanced child but he didn't believe me."

John chuckled. "Fine. When it comes to Rosie, I'll believe you in whatever you say."

"Mary would have been proud," Sherlock mumbled, placing the child back down as he leant back against his chair.

"And she would have loved to be here. Probably calling you a 'prick' and 'twat' by now at your ability to foresee our daughter's learning abilities."

Mary smirked, folding her arms. _"You prick. You're such a twat for making my daughter so advanced!"_

Sherlock smiled before he glanced outside at the busy street of Baker Street.

He felt a presence behind him, no less than 10 minutes later, and he turned slightly to face the person.

"Yes, Mrs Hudson?"

"This came in the mail for you this morning," she smiled, gaining Mycroft's attention. "I think it's from Molly!"

Sherlock quickly but gently took the box and opened it carefully before emptying its contents.

A scarf and a perfume. His favourites.

There was no note but it did seem that it obviously was from abroad so customs may have checked it before sending it on its way.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson."

"I'm just the deliverer!" She smiled brightly as she went to talk to John.

Sherlock rubbed the scarf's material between his fingers and gave a small smile. "Molly Hooper..." he said quietly.

His eyes glanced downwards to the street and he saw two figures exiting a sleek black car before making their way towards the front door.

"Mrs Hudson, can you be as kind as to open the door for our guests?" He asked, turning to face her.

Mrs Hudson gave him a smile before going downstairs to do as she was told. _Only because it's your birthday,_ she thought brightly. _Next time, you can get the bloody door_.

Sherlock's phone buzzed and he retrieved it from his pocket, smiling briefly at the two text messages.

 **From: Molly Hooper**

 **Happy Birthday. I hope you enjoy your day x M**

 **From: The Woman**

 **Bon Anniversaire, My Keeper IA**

He switched his phone off for the rest of the party and settled back in his seat just as Oliver and Leona Trevor entered the room with the guidance from Mrs Hudson.

"Mrs Trevor, why don't you take my seat?" Sherlock asked, standing up.

Leona gave him a bright smile and a gift box before settling herself excitedly on Sherlock's armchair. "What a lovely home, isn't it Ollie? I think I even see Wanda and Timothy. You know, the Holmes parents?"

Sherlock left his family to get reacquainted with the Trevors and his friends to indulge in the alcoholic beverages and apple juice for Rosie.

He locked himself in his room, the scarf and perfume still in his hand. He sniffed them and closed his eyes, going into his Mind Palace.

 _They smell like you, Molly..._

He reopened his eyes and they caught his violin. Taking all the time in the world, he took it and started to play a soft melody.

 _Molly..._

He had not realised that everything had grown quiet in the living room. Nor had he noticed his door being picked at before opening and revealing a full audience.

Turning around, he halted immediately.

"That was wonderful!" Leona breathed out in awe. "Ollie, it's just like we used to hear when Vicky was a boy."

Oliver chuckled, nodding. "That's because it's Sherlock playing. He's always been good, hasn't he?"

Sherlock's mother looked proudly at him, mouthing 'I love you'. He responded in kind with a small smile and continued to play, _Molly_.

...

Molly's phone chimed and her colleagues looked at it in wonder.

"Did he reply?"

Molly checked her phone. "No. But his brother did."

Rhys almost leapt at her. "What did he say?"

 **From Mycroft Holmes:**

 **He adored your gifts. He composed a new piece called - well you guess what, dear Dr Hooper. MH**

She blushed smiling brightly. "He's... different. He replies with music - my partner, I mean. He's made a new violin piece named after me."

"He truly does appreciate you, see?" Emilia grinned. "Why does it have to be complicated, Molls?"

"Because he's... he's Sherlock Holmes."

Emilia's and Rhys' eyes widened as they looked at her in utter shock.

"Sh-Sherlock bloody Holmes? That consulting detective that can do the Yard's job better than they can? Bloody hell, Molly! You've done yourself in!" Rhys cried.

Molly giggled. "He's not all that bad. He's okay once you get to know him."

Emilia winked at her before gesturing to her stomach. "Bet he is," she smirked. "Otherwise _that_ wouldn't have happened."

Rhys laughed, nudging Molly gently as she rolled her eyes with a smile. Her phone beeped again and she glanced at Mycroft's new message.

 **From Mycroft Holmes:**

 **My own birthday is next month, on the 21st. I cordially invite you to attend Musgrave Hall with whoever you please. I hope you attend.**

Molly sighed, locking her phone before taking a sip of her tea.

"What do you think, guys? Have you got time spare next month?"

...

221B Baker Street was finally quiet in the early hours of the new day. Sherlock had long abandoned his violin and settled for his chair and looking outside the streets.

His mind was quiet lately. There wasn't much going on up there and Sherlock felt lonely. At least when his mind was loud, he had something to say about it.

Mrs Hudson had noticed his demeanour since he came back to live there after spending nights with the Watsons. She didn't want to pester him much but she had voiced her concerns to John who merely gave an excuse of there being barely any good cases but still... If there were no cases, shouldn't he be using again or something else?

Sherlock had been visiting Eurus less and less now and that had probably been due to the fact that Victor's official funeral was coming up next week and he couldn't bare to look in the eyes or be within proximity to his murderer.

He believed that he was also quiet due to the fact that a certain pathologist had moved miles and miles away to shut him out of her and their child's lives.

Everyone could see that Sherlock did inhibit some emotional context, especially John who he confessed to about wanting to be a father. As a result, Sherlock spent more time with Rosie and had even learnt how to change nappies although learning that babies _did_ produce more waste products than he expected from such little things.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock stood up, stuffing something into his pocket. "I'm just popping outside for a minute, Mrs Hudson."

He took his blazer and slipped it on before leaving a bewildered landlady holding a tray of tea. He stepped into the cold air and retrieved the packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up before placing it between his lips and taking a drag.

He had stopped smoking. Ages ago, really, but desperate times came for desperate measures and drugs were not an option these days.

The moon looked dull this time of day, well night, and Sherlock still found himself transfixed onto it, wondering if Molly was looking at the same moon. Grabbing his phone from his other pocket, he decided to ask.

 **To: Molly Hooper**

 **How's the moon over there? SH**

Sherlock found himself gasping when he saw the three little dots appear on the screen.

 **From: Molly Hooper**

 **Perfect. Not as dull as London's... x M**

 **Why aren't you asleep?**

 **To: Molly Hooper**

 **Figures, London's riddled with pollution. You know me, I'm a creature of the night. SH**

Sherlock could imagine Molly's smile as she read his text over and over in her mind.

 **From: Molly Hooper**

 **Well, the creature of the night... you're disturbing the creature of the day. x M**

 **To: Molly Hooper**

 **I apologise. Get some sleep, I want you all to be rested. SH**

He knew that he slipped up since she had stopped texting soon after. Sighing, he put out his cigarette and put it in the bin before making his way back into the flat and to his seat by the window.

He was shocked to see that he had one unread message from coming up those stairs dishearteningly and slowly.

 **From: Molly Hooper**

 **I knew I couldn't fool you. Twins, Sherlock, we're having twins. You're lucky I can't have a glass of red right now otherwise I would drunkenly refrain from confessing all. My truths seemed to be safe when I'm drunk.**

 **I hope you can forgive me because I forgive you. For everything but it's too late for us.**

 **Goodbye x M**

'Goodbye'? Not 'goodnight'?

Sherlock closed his eyes and switched his phone off before drifting into a dreamless sleep.


	15. Quite The Woman

"Bloody bastard!"

Sherlock smiled. He was used to being called 'bastard' and many other explicit words but hearing it from his brother's lips made him feel joy.

"Why don't you get with her already, Mycroft? I'm sure she has some lingerie hidden at the back of her wardrobe just for you." Sherlock replied, sipping on his champagne. "Oh, and happy birthday."

He walked away, leaving his brother glaring daggers at his head before blushing at Anthea's soft chuckles. He joined John who was speaking to Sherrinford about how Musgrave Hall had seemed to transform within a month after being burnt to the ground decades ago.

"... Honestly, Dr Watson, I wouldn't have stepped foot in here ever again if Mycroft didn't promise some sort of payment." Sherrinford sighed. "It holds... too many memories."

"It does." Sherlock cut in, nodding at John. "Although, I am lucky enough to barely remember most."

John shifted uncomfortably. "Doesn't it feel weird, though? That your best friend was killed not that far from here?"

Sherlock looked down, downing his glass before the horrible remnants of Victor's funeral came flooding back to him.

 _"Eurus sends her regards."_

 _"Screw Eurus."_

 _Sherlock glared at Mycroft before leaving his side to join the Trevors._

 _"Why are we doing this? Did Vicky die? How did he die, Ollie?" Mrs Trevor sobbed, gripping onto her husband tightly. "Does that mean he wouldn't do my garden anymore?"_

 _Mr Trevor sighed, nodding. "Yes, love. He won't be doing your garden but we'll get someone else. Look, there's Wanda! You can go and talk to her."_

 _Leona hesitantly left her husband's side before sobbing into Wanda's arms as the latter consoled her dear friend._

 _"She... She doesn't know?" Sherlock gulped._

 _"No. I had to fire the poor lad. I gave him a hefty consolation pay but he loved Leona dearly as if she were his own mother." Mr Trevor sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I got him another job for our neighbours but, it isn't the same. He was the only thing of Leona's that helped her remember him and now she truly is going to forget her own son."_

 _Sherlock glanced at Mrs Trevor who seemed to worsen with Wanda's consolation._

 _"I'm so sorry." He whispered._

 _"I am too," Oliver mumbled, going off to see to other guests and mourners._

 _"Sherlock? Eurus wants to meet with you." Sherrinford whispered to him before walking off to their parents._

 _Jaw set, Sherlock got into the waiting car and shut the door, closing his eyes._

 _When he arrived at the asylum, he wasted no time in getting through the security measures and standing face to face with the murderer of his best friend._

 _"You called?"_

 _"You come." Eurus smiled. "How are the Trevors? Such a difficult day, isn't it? Now they've actually got a body to bury. Or are they going to cremate his body?"_

 _Sherlock glared at her before slamming the glass window with his hands. "You don't get to talk about him, about them. You keep quiet and be a good little girl."_

 _"Good little girl, I will be."_

 _Eurus stalked away from the window and collected her violin to play a different piece._

 _"It's not you. Or me. Or even Bach. It's... Victor."_

 _Sherlock clenched his fists as she laughed, playing a hearty tune._

 _"Wasn't he such a happy child? I remember him begging for me to let him out. 'Please, let me out!' was what he screamed. It feels just like it was yesterday."_

 _"These meetings... they should stop."_

 _"Why?" Eurus halted playing, her eyes glaring at Sherlock._

 _Sherlock scoffed before giving her a bitter smile. "Emotional context, Eurus? Is someone feeling a little upset that her brother is ignoring her?"_

 _"N-No. No, someone isn't. Sherlock, someone isn't feeling a little upset. Why would you say that? Why?"_

 _"Someone's stumbling across their words, now. Aren't they, Eurus?" He taunted._

 _Eurus grinned. "No, they are not. You may leave, now. Off you go. Leave."_

 _Sherlock shook his head, happily seating himself in front of the window. "I think I'll stay here for a little while and observe you as I crush you."_

 _"Crush me, Sherlock?"_

 _"You will regret the day you ever crossed me..." Sherlock whispered, his eyes darkening. "I'll make you regret, Eurus."_

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock shook his head, taking another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by.

"I'm fine, John."

"Don't look it," Sherrinford said, clearing his throat as he got another glass for himself. "How about you take rest upstairs. I'll cover for you."

Sherlock gave his brother a smile of gratitude before collecting another glass and heading up the newly red carpeted stairs to what was his old bedroom.

It was completely transformed. Very different from what he remembered as a child. Pirate toy chests, and ship-shaped beds for himself and a friend if they came over for a sleepover. Sky blue walls and yellow rugs.

Very different from the king-sized mahogany bed with luxury damask cream sheets and pillows. The walls were panelled with mahogany borders and the floor was a comfortable cream carpeting. Everything was mahogany themed, something Sherlock would never have gone for, even in his teenage years.

Sherlock downed the first glass and placed it on the dresser before steadily sipping the other, fingering everything in the room from the traditional armchairs to the recently dusted silk curtains.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock closed his eyes. He was seriously beginning to get annoyed at the amount of time someone had said his damn name.

Timothy entered the room, noticing the empty glass placed on the dresser.

"You have people asking for you."

"Please, they'd rather hear stories of my most enthralling cases. Go and tell them to read Dr John Watson's blog instead, it's very informative although lacking in originality." Sherlock replied, sipping his champagne.

Timothy shook his head with a sad smile. "Go easy on those, boy. It's the fifth one that I have seen you come into contact with."

"I've been a drug addict and a smoker, yet I can hold myself better than you did when you thought Eurus was dead. Yes, I remember that time." Sherlock snapped. "Like father, like son. What's one more addiction indulged?"

Mr Holmes sat down on the armchair and retrieved a packet of cigars before lighting one up and putting it between his lips. "What's one more addiction?" He smirked. "Your mother won't approve but it will be our little secret."

Sherlock gave a pleased smile and accepted a puff of the cigar before handing it back. "I'll be... admiring the view from the balcony."

"You go and do that. The peace would do me just fine, boy." Timothy replied, watching his son leave.

...

"Name?"

"Dr Molly Hooper."

The host glanced, his eyes widening. "Dr Hooper! Mr Holmes has been expecting you. You're his VIP guest."

Molly blushed at her colleagues' smirks. "I would hope so," she replied, trying not to touch her perfectly fixed hair.

"I will need the names of your plus ones. Health and security reasons."

"Of course. Dr Emilia Alexander, Rhys Hodgson, Dr Thomas Wilson and Dr Liz Fontaine." Molly replied.

The host glanced knowingly at her stomach and she blushed furiously.

 _Of course, he'll spill the beans._

"Enjoy the party," the host smiled, letting them in.

Molly led the way in, making sure not to trip on her bright red ensemble with diamantes attached to the left hip. It was a one sleeve dress, leaving one shoulder bare with a crystal flower attached to the sleeve shoulder. Molly had spent ages on the shoes, deciding whether or not to go with flats or heels. Eventually, she settled for short, strappy silver heels.

"Now, where's your lover?" Rhys whispered into her ear, making her glare at him lightly. He returned with a cheeky smile before getting a glass of champagne for himself and Emilia.

Emilia took her other side, now sipping from her glass. "Red was a bold choice."

"Indeed..." Molly whispered back, looking anxiously around.

She spotted Rosie with a side help and she beamed, making her way over to the child with her new friends as Liz and Thomas went to talk to Dr Mike Stamford.

"Rosie!" She gasped happily at the child before bringing her into her arms and hugging her tightly. "Auntie Molly missed you so much!"

"Did she now?"

Molly turned to face John who had a smile on his face. She brought him for a hug too and introduced him to her colleagues.

"How have you been?" John asked, trying his hardest not to glance at her stomach.

She gave him a small smile. "I've been well, thank you. You?"

"As good as I can be. Rosie's learnt how to walk, now." He replied proudly.

Molly faced the child with a proud smile of her own. "That is wonderful, baby girl! You really are growing up, now. Your mama would have been so proud!"

"She would have," John smiled sadly. "Have you seen Sherlock, yet?"

"We've just arrived," Emilia answered for her. "Now, don't you think her outfit's a bit out there?"

John smirked. "I do think that. Who are you trying to please?"

Molly clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes. "Can't a girl look good once in a while?"

"She can but now it just looks like she's trying too hard for a man she does not want to see." Rhys chuckled.

Molly playfully glared at her friends before handing the child over to her father. "Where's Mycroft? It is his birthday, after all."

John subtly pointed over to where Mycroft seemed to be laughing with Anthea, the female's hand now and then slipping her hair behind her ear with a bright smile.

"They're so hooking up after this," Rhys mumbled, making Molly smile.

"I will be right back. I wouldn't leave you two in John's company if I did not know him well," Molly told them before heading towards Mycroft.

Anthea gently touched his arm and signalled that a certain brunette was heading their way.

"Dr Molly Hooper."

"Mycroft Holmes."

They gave each other a short embrace before Mycroft took his time at observing her glowing figure.

"You look stunning. You are showing and most certainly glowing." He told her, placing a light kiss on her cheek.

Molly chuckled lightly, offering Anthea a brief hug as well before stepping back and using her clutch as a shield for her abdomen.

"I honestly wished that I was not showing yet. Your parents are here, I presume?"

Mycroft gave an affirmative nod. "What is your excuse? I can help."

"They have not met me yet. I doubt that I'll be needing an excuse so quickly." Molly gulped, again, trying her hardest not to touch her done up hair.

"Have you had something to drink?" Mycroft suddenly asked. "I'm afraid that I've allowed my hospitality to slacken. You must be parched."

Molly brushed it off, giving him a kind smile. "You do worry. I am fine. A glass of water would do me."

"No, I have something better. Do not worry, it is not cranberry juice or the sort. It's sparkling cider."

The pathologist smiled. "Just perfect, Mycroft."

...

Sherlock slowly savoured the taste of the bubbling beverage in his mouth and glanced downwards at the infinity pool below.

 _A bit too much, don't you think brother mine?_

He wondered what would happen if he were to just... fall in.

Accidently drown. His father could vouch for his drunkenness. Although, Timothy Holmes would not bother to vouch for such cruel activity.

The water looked quite inviting. Pure chlorinated blue with the night moon shimmering on the surface. Water did have its mysterious ways after all.

He finished his glass and placed the empty flute on a conveniently placed outdoor coffee table, complete with its matching set of couches and armchairs.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Sherlock continued to glance down at the water. What would it be like to die? Not _die_ per se, maybe fake his death again and start anew.

"You're wearing that purple shirt."

Sherlock slowly turned, his breath hitching at the sight of bright red and sparkling.

"I did not want to succumb to the traditional black and white ensemble," he replied.

Stepping closer, "I agree. I believe red is quite fitting, don't you think? Makes everything more... prominent."

Glancing downwards quickly, he nodded. "I agree. Different from the typical emerald, cream and sapphire."

"My friend wore cream."

"Tell her that she hasn't chosen well. The idea of parties like these is to stand out."

A slight head tilt, "Would I stand out?"

"Yes." A gulp. "You always will, from a mile away."

Molly finally blushed, placing a hand on the fence and sipping her cider. "Non-alcoholic beverage for the woman who is pregnant."

Sherlock gave an approving nod. "Mycroft's choice?"

"Yes..." Molly replied, finishing it off before placing the empty flute beside Sherlock's abandoned one. "How have you been?"

"Indifferent." A short reply. "You?"

Molly shrugged. "I've been fine. Morning sickness is really taking its toll but Emilia helped me remedy that."

"Emilia?"

"My colleague. She's the friend who has a poor choice of clothing." Molly chuckled. "She's here with my new boss, Thomas and my other colleagues, Liz and Rhys."

Sherlock nodded. "I knew an Emilia once."

"From where?"

"Anthea's sister. I did a bit of digging on Mycroft's aid. Turns out 'Smith' is a generic name that one shouldn't go to when disguising their true identity."

Molly was intrigued. "Oh?"

"Anthea was married once. Anthea Waincroft. She met Mycroft and dropped her surname completely - I believe she holds a candle for him."

"She does make him smile," Molly said gently. "I do see them together. What's her maiden name, then?"

"Alexander. She's from South Africa."

Molly gave a small gasp. "Emilia's surname is Alexander - her maiden name, that is and she's from South Africa too! It doesn't take one to put two and two together and realise that they are siblings. Maybe Mycroft set this new job up for me, knowing someone already there to keep an eye out on me..." She almost felt betrayed. "But how could he have known unless he contacted Mike before I did?"

Sherlock gave her a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Anthea and Emilia are very much estranged from each other. I doubt Mycroft even knows of Emilia. If he does, maybe he felt comfortable with the fact that you wouldn't be with a stranger, although one nonetheless."

"Do you think she reports back to him?"

"You are being paranoid." He gave a gentle smile. "But that's one of the many things I love about you. I also love that you are predictable."

Molly frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I knew that you would attend. Mycroft has done so much for you that our situation wouldn't prevent you from showing up on a long flight suffering from morning sickness."

The pathologist smiled, shaking her head lightly. "I also wanted to see my goddaughter. I have one remember? She's yours too."

"Rosie as an excuse, hmm? Next, you'll say that you came to visit Lestrade!"

Molly gave him a teasingly guilty look.

"You did also come to visit Greg." He muttered.

She giggled, nodding. "Also, Rhys wanted to visit some family up North in Scotland so he and Emilia will go tomorrow. We all have our sneaky reasons from returning to the country that provides good tea and not the horrible kind."

"We need to talk, Molly. About-"

"Why I lied to you? You already know that." Molly cut in gently. "Let's forget the talking and focus on this moment."

Sherlock frowned. "What moment? You seem to want to talk about other people than you and-"

He was silenced with a kiss. A long and bittersweet kiss.

When she finally released from his soft grip, she gave him a smile.

"After my year-long contract is up, I'll be returning back to St. Bart's after my maternity leave."

With that, she left him all confused and dazed.

Slowly, a smile appeared and a soft chuckle came from his lips.

"You're quite the woman, Molly Hooper."


	16. Small Smile

Mycroft inwardly groaned and turned to face his brother.

"I assume you've spoken to Dr Hooper?"

Sherlock nodded. "I wanted to ask you about someone else - Anthea."

Mycroft's eyebrow raised as he spotted his assistant chatting idly to Wanda. "What about Miss Smith?"

"What do you know about her?"

The eldest Holmes son smirked. "Enough. Why?"

"Molly was right. You have someone watching her." Sherlock replied, carefully guiding them away from prying ears, into the garden.

"I know of Anthea's sister, Emilia but honestly, I did not know that she worked there. The Alexander sisters are quite estranged but I saw it as an opportunity. Someone that we can trust albeit unacquainted, to look after the mother of your children." Mycroft responded, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his suit.

Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared off into the distance. "Well, thank you although you did not set it up. I feel somewhat relieved that she is safe."

Mycroft nodded. "Very well. How is Dr Hooper?"

"You know. I could tell she saw you prior to our meeting so do not act so coy." Sherlock replied, his eyes setting onto the swimming pool. "And you do realise that this pool is a bit over the top for a stone manor like Musgrave? A bit too... modern."

"We're in modern times, Sherlock. I was quite hoping that you'd like it since it's yours."

Sherlock raised an inquisitive eyebrow, watching his brother's smile increase. "I believed it was yours - or even 'Ford's."

Mycroft scoffed. "No, Mummy and Daddy found it fitting for my moods but I think Musgrave Hall is fitting for your moods. I am not the one with the ever-growing family, here. Also, Sherrinford rejected my offer, saying that it held bitter memories and I agree..."

"So, you thought giving it to the one person whose life was destroyed here is the best option? My best friend died just a mile from here."

"I know how it seems. It seems cruel, I know but... I was hoping that you and dear Molly could settle here with the twins and create new memories. Happier ones, if you will brother mine." Mycroft said gently. "Children adore water these days so the swimming pool seemed fitting. There's a large garden space as well as compound space as those horrible gravestones have been removed and dealt with. You can be happy here."

Sherlock closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. "Victor drowned in water. I will not have my children suffer such a fate."

"The pool can go-"

"There are too many ghosts here. I will not have them haunt my children."

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, nodding. "Very well. I suppose it can continue to be a hotel or entertainment hall of some sorts but your name is written in the papers, along with mine."

"I relinquish my rights-"

"No, you do not. You forget that I was also condemned to horrible memories regarding this place yet, it seems as if I am the only one willing to try and create new memories. Mine and 'Ford's condemned lives to being bachelors mean that we have no use for such a home but you do. Do you remember the first time that I... I forced myself to stop eating?"

"I do," Sherlock replied gently.

Mycroft nodded. "It was here. Here is this place but I moved on. I grew up and I tried again. Do the same."

Mycroft walked back inside, happily greeting well-wishers as Sherlock remained outside in the dark, contemplating his brother's words.

"Hi."

He tilted his head slightly and gave a polite smile at the intruder of his thoughts.

"Hello, Dr Alexander."

"I wanted a breath of fresh air and saw you. I decided to take the opportunity to meet the man who loves my friend."

Sherlock frowned. "She's... told you about me?"

Emilia chuckled. "Rhys and I all but forced it out of her. She's a wonderful woman, you know? You have to stop hurting her."

"I am not hurting her?" Sherlock replied, confused. Wasn't the distance doing them well?

Emilia sighed, clearing her throat as she fully turned to face him. "You being apart is hurting her. Do something, anything, to let her know you love her. Words are not enough here, Mr Holmes."

"What do I do?"

The blonde pathologist gave him a knowing smile. "You know where she is. Why not conjure up a case and give her a little visit?"

She was about to leave when he stopped her. "Want to dance, Dr Alexander?"

"Using dance as a means to catch up on your lover? I'd love a dance."

They re-entered the hall, watching other partners dance and Sherlock took her hand and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Do you know how to-"

Emilia was suddenly jerked to face Molly's confused glance.

"Is she looking?"

"I thought you wanted intel, not to make her jealous."

"Same thing," Sherlock replied nonchalantly. "I noticed something about her. She's hiding something. Has she met someone?"

Emilia chuckled. "If you're talking about Rhys' cologne then no, she hasn't met anyone that I know of."

"I've passed your colleague - noticed his cologne as well - and he is not the 'someone'," Sherlock replied. "She was hesitant when she talked to me. Then suddenly, she became confident and almost alluring."

"She kissed you..." Emilia stated. "It's quite obvious."

Sherlock sighed, turning them around so his eyes met Molly's narrowed ones. "She's met someone, hasn't she? She's playing me along."

"Just like you did to her." Emilia frowned. "Don't act surprised, Mr Holmes. And you can relax, it's only coffee mornings."

"Who is he?" Sherlock whispered into her ear. "She knows him well."

"How can you even bloody deduce everything so quickly?" Emilia retorted with her own question. "Are you stalking her or is big brother watching?" She hissed.

Sherlock gave her a bitter smile before letting go of her waist, his hand still gripping hers tightly. "It's Tom, isn't it?"

Emilia forcefully retracted her hand and swallowed deeply. "Visit." She mumbled before heading back to her friends.

Molly stepped towards her, Emilia's flustered face alarming her.

"What's wrong? What did he say? What did he do?"

The blonde shook her head before offering a bright smile. "I have to see someone that I know here. Are you two all right?"

Rhys nodded. "What happened with Holmes? You guys got a bit frisky on the dance floor," He smirked receiving a hit from Molly.

"I told him about Molly-"

"Did you tell him about...?"

Emilia shook her head. "He deduced it. Why did you meet him?"

"I had to. He needed to see me, to know that the twins were okay!" Molly whined. "Oh God, how do I choose?"

Rhys placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly. "The father of your children or the man you once loved. It's a tough choice but you have to make it, Molly."

Molly bit her lip and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

...

Mrs Hudson placed her hands on her hips, exasperated. It had been a week since the party and Molly had gone back to the States along with her colleagues in tow after a short visit to Glasgow. This meant that Sherlock had gone back to his depressive, silent ways.

"Do you need an eighth psychiatrist?" She asked, ready with her trusted Yellow Book.

Sherlock frowned, slowly turning to face her. "When did I have a sixth or a seventh?"

"Those poor women you disregarded as clients. You barely even spent twenty minutes with either of them."

Sherlock's expression became one of surprise. " _They_ were psychs? How long have I been in this state exactly?"

Mrs Hudson shrugged, putting her phone back into her cardigan pocket. "Since Mycroft's birthday. I suppose that I will hold off on getting that eighth for you but you do need to talk to someone, even John will suffice."

"Did you see her?" Sherlock suddenly asked, turning to face the street. "She looked so-"

"Breathtaking? Astonishing? Even pregnant, that woman can light up a room." John interrupted, entering the room. "Got any good cases?"

"Was waiting for you. Rosie?"

"Babysitter. And no, this one does not have a boyfriend to run off to. She's a lesbian."

Sherlock gave a short chuckle before standing up and stretching. "Tea?"

"Please," John said, taking his coat off. "And do you want an eighth psychiatrist? I've got a third that you can borrow."

"Nope. I'm fine."

John shook his head, accepting his tea as he sat in his chair and got his notepad and pen out. "You aren't. You've gone into your shell again."

"Yes, do tell him!" Mrs Hudson encouraged.

The Holmes detective gave an irritated sigh and sat back down. "Mrs Hudson, if you will please let up the first client?"

"Fine." She grumbled before disappearing downstairs. "I'll see if they want some cake your brother so graciously gave for us."

John and Sherlock shared an amused look.

"Would have gone stale by now, surely?" John asked.

"She's over seventy, doesn't notice the taste but we'll be sure to warn the clients. If need be and they don't annoy or disappoint me."

John just shook his head, smirking to himself as their first client sat on the dining chair seat and began their tirade of a case.

"...he's probably touring America now-"

"America?" Sherlock's interest peaked. "Where exactly?"

The freckled ginger woman frowned. "Miami, Florida. I saw his flight ticket but... surely my husband didn't kill this man or the woman in America as well as abduct my children under false pretences?"

"We'll take the case. Don't you worry, Mrs Peel, we have this covered."

Miss Peel gave a bright smile, wiping her tears. "You have to find my husband. He has my children with him."

John cut in, giving a disapproving glance at Sherlock. "How long have you two been separated?"

"Three years. But the calls stopped coming in and I got even more alarmed when the police showed up at my door demanding to see him."

"Miss Peel, I apologise but my partner and I are stationed for cases based in the UK-"

"This _is_ a case stationed in the UK."

John sighed. "If your husband went to America then it becomes an international matter."

"One we can solve before the authorities do..." Sherlock argued gently. "I apologise, Miss Peel but, I've noticed the use of your maiden name. What is your married name?"

"Hooper."

"Pardon?"

"Hooper." Miss Peel repeated. "I'm Jasmine Peel-Hooper and my husband is Harry Hooper."

John and Sherlock shared a look. The name was awfully familiar.

"Excuse me one minute," Sherlock said, closing his eyes as he went into his Mind Palace.

It led him to Molly Hooper's file, shifting through information based on her family and friends before it landed on one piece of information. A sibling. A name for said sibling. Estranged after surviving parent's death as a teenager.

Harry Andrew Hooper.

Sherlock's eyes shot open as he shared a small smile with John.


	17. Let's Start Talking

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he received a text.

 **From: EA**

 **He will meet you in Miami. We need him back after two days. EA**

 **To: EA**

 **Thank you. I appreciate your help. SH**

 **From: EA**

 **Sure thing, stalker. You still haven't told me how you got my number? EA**

 **To: EA**

 **I have my ways. SH**

He then proceeded to start a new message.

 **To: Molly Hooper**

 **OK to talk? SH**

 **From: Molly Hooper**

 **No. Busy and covering for someone. x M**

 **To: Molly Hooper**

 **Talk later? SH**

 **From: Molly Hooper**

 **No. x M**

He put his phone away and sighed, watching as Rosie waddled around the VIP waiting room.

"Did we really have to tell Mycroft?"

John gave him a look. "We did. Unless you want Big Brother's army tearing up London looking for you. Plus, it's got its perks." He replied, taking a sip from a mild martini.

"Hmm," Sherlock replied, closing his eyes. "Rosie, your father's deliberately getting himself drunk so I'll have to deal with you during our long flight."

Rosie looked up and smiled as if to say 'bring it on'. "Up," she settled for.

Sherlock opened his eyes and lifted the infant into his arms before allowing her to ruffle his curls. "You're the only woman allowed to do that, you hear?"

The child tilted her head teasingly as she did it again, this time with both hands.

"And of course, someone else but you already know who that is."

Rosie gave a nod as if she understood before starting to fuss that she wanted down. Sherlock placed her back on the plush carpet and watched as she quickly waddled away to her father's legs.

"We will board soon."

John nodded. "Until then, I'm going to need another glass..." He mumbled, watching his daughter pick at a loose thread on his jeans.

...

John swatted the air, holding Rosie in his other arms as Sherlock tackled their bags.

"Damn, it's bloody hot!"

"Indeed, Watson," Sherlock mumbled, trying to spot where their travel was. "Black Mercedes. Keep an eye out."

Watson nodded and turned to face his best friend from under his sunglasses. "Are you hellbent on wearing that Belstaff? Jesus, Sherlock it's a thousand degrees out here!"

"Don't exaggerate, it's a mere 35 or so. And I'm comfortable."

"Comfortable whilst burning like a sauna? Take it off."

Sherlock almost whined but relented, slipping his favourite coat off and slipping it through the handles of his travel bag on top of the zip.

"Happy now?"

"I will be once you've had a shower to remove those sweat stains. Told you-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Sherlock grumbled.

Ten minutes later, their ride finally arrived and George exited, putting their things and Rosie's buggy into the boot. "Mycroft's got a nice little safe house by the beach." George was saying as John strapped Rosie in her car seat and Sherlock waited impatiently inside the car. "Your associate is there already."

Sherlock nodded and retrieved his phone.

 **To: Mycroft Holmes**

 **Made it safe and sound. And get rid of George. He talks a lot. SH**

 **From: Mycroft Holmes**

 **Jesus, Sherlock. Leave the poor man alone. However, I will be having words with him regarding your presence. MH**

 **To: Mycroft Holmes**

 **Fine. This conversation is over. SH**

Again, the phone ceased to exist in his hands and he finally felt the car move and George's conversation starters quieten down.

Sherlock frowned when he felt someone nudging him. Opening his eyes, he frowned at John who had Rosie in his arms.

"We've made it."

"Oh." He stepped out of the car and stretched. "Must have dozed off."

John nodded, retrieving Rosie's buggy from the boot as George got their luggage.

"It was an hour and a half trip."

Sherlock nodded, recording the time in his head as he entered the house before them, taking his time to observe every nook and cranny.

"Is it safe?" John joked, placing Rosie in a play pen.

"Safe indeed. Hence, the name 'safe house'." Sherlock muttered. "I haven't checked the pool."

Watson gestured outside further, near the sea. "Seems like our associate's there."

And there he was. A man looking out to the ocean as he threw shells, hoping to get them skipping.

Sherlock opened the back door and stepped onto the deck before making his way down the steps and onto the sand. He hoped that none of the annoying sand got into his shoes. He was wearing socks and socks and sand was not a good mix.

"Mr Hodgson."

Rhys stilled, his arm in the air as the shell was tightly gripped in his hand. Slowly, he brought it down and turned to smirk at Sherlock.

"Took your time,"

"I do appreciate this."

Rhys shrugged. "Well, Emilia said it was important. What's this case about, exactly?"

"Disappearance of a man and his two children. His wife is back in London, worried out of her wits."

Hodgson crossed his arms. "Was it a holiday gone bad?"

Sherlock shrugged, coming over to stand closer to the tide. "I honestly don't know."

"Fine." A glance towards Holmes. "Will you visit the mother of your children?"

"I have to."

"Not willingly then. Great..."

Sherlock frowned. "I want to see her. She's the reason why I came in the first place but something involves her that I must let her aware of."

Rhys nodded slowly, still not quite believing him. "Sure..."

"It honestly is. I didn't have to take the case. It could have been an international matter."

"You're right."

"Oi, Sherlock!"

Sherlock turned around, seeing John wave him over. "What, Watson?"

"Oh, hi Rhys! And Sherlock the room down the hall's yours. Last come, last served."

"Don't care," Sherlock mumbled. "I need a cigarette."

Rhys chuckled, heading back to the house. "They're-"

"You don't have to tell me."

...

Molly followed Emilia into the staff room, gratefully accepting the cup of tea that was already made for her.

"So, Rhys had a family emergency in _Miami_?"

Emilia stilled from stirring her tea. "Yes. A great uncle or aunt, I wasn't really paying attention."

Molly replied with a simple nod, taking some biscuits from the tin. She placed a hand on her stomach and patted it lightly.

"They're moving,"

Emilia gave a bright smile. "Do you want to find out what they are?"

"I'd rather keep it a surprise. If I knew then I would have to let him know."

The blonde clicked her tongue. "Ah."

"I know it sounds cruel but I want it to be a surprise, you know? My life's been full of surprises so what's another?" Molly replied happily. "Then we can have a gender neutral baby shower."

Emilia clapped her hands in glee. "Which I am organising! Have you thought of names at all?"

"Yes but that seems like something we both should do. I don't want to steal away that choice for him."

"So you do plan on having him at the birth?"

"Of course!" Molly exclaimed, almost breaking her biscuit in the process. "I mean, he's the father. He has to be there."

They both looked up when there was a knock on the door.

"Tom, what are you doing here? You're supposed to meet me at the bakery," Molly frowned.

Tom smiled, handing her a bouquet of flowers. "The bakery was closed due to familial matters. I decided that our little meeting should take place here."

"How did you even get in?"

"Thomas. Great guy."

Emilia rolled her eyes, taking a plate of biscuits and standing up. "I'll be in the conference room, if you need me."

Molly knew that her friend didn't like Tom. Hell, she wasn't so sure she did either. But she had to humour him whilst she wasn't with Sherlock.

"So... Let's start talking," Tom grinned.


	18. Furniture Shopping

**It's been long, I apologise. Life got in the way and writer's block happened but this story is still continuing. I don't know a lot about casing out a crime scene so it should be exiting for all of us. On to the chapter :)**

* * *

Emilia bit her lip, anxiously thinking of a message to type. She finally settled on one after much consideration.

 **To: SH**

 **So, how are things getting along?**

 **From: SH**

 **She is with him, again?**

 **To: SH**

 **I try to put him off but it never works. I don't really think she wants to be in his presence either.**

 **From SH:**

 **Things are still at a halt over here. When it is over, I will see them.**

 **To: SH**

 **I may not approve wholly of you but you are the father of her children and I am glad you take them into consideration.**

 **From: SH**

 **Of course.**

 **Is she free to talk?**

 **To: SH**

 **She doesn't want to talk. Do whatever you have to do and then get here. I have to go, a corpse has been admitted.**

 **From: SH**

 **Interesting. Cause of death?**

 **Emilia raised a sceptical eyebrow, 'really, Holmes?'.**

 **To: SH**

 **I'll surprise you later, my strange acquaintance...**

She put her phone back into her bag in her locker and locked the door before heading to join Liz with the new corpse.

She tried to ignore the fact that Tom was here again today and that he and Molly were currently laughing hysterically at something _he_ probably said in the staff room, deciding that some battles were not to be picked. Just yet...

...

"So forensics found nothing here?" Sherlock asked the lieutenant of the Miami police force.

"Nope. Your guy and his kids left no trace whatsoever." The middle-aged man replied. Sherlock soon found his name to be Herrera.

Rhys scanned the living room, where they were standing, taking his time to observe every nook and cranny. "Is it alright if I have a go?"

"And you are?" Herrera asked disinterestedly.

"Rhys Hodgson, Mr Holmes' personal forensics analyst. So, may I?"

Herrera scoffed, making Sherlock tilt his head. He was yet to observe Rhys' prowess.

"If you think you can find something that my team missed then knock yourself out. I'll wait outside if you need me."

Sherlock nodded his farewell as he watched the lieutenant leave before turning to face Watson as Rhys got to work.

"Watson, what do you observe?"

"Isn't that your job? I'm on holiday, Sherlock." John replied, slipping his sunglasses on and heading out to the deck. "This place is _decked_ out!"

Sherlock almost rolled his eyes. "Easy on the puns, John..." he mumbled, watching as Rhys began powdering the floor. "What have you found, Hodgson?"

"Carpet's recently been removed. If you can find that then we may get somewhere. Also, our guy or someone else did leave traces. These footprints coming from the deck to the archway connecting to the dining area are evident. If we can block any light, I can turn my UV light on and get more traces."

Sherlock got to work, locking a baffled John outside on the deck before drawing the blinds down, closing the entrance door and blocking the archway with his Belstaff.

"The coat may not work but can you make do?"

Rhys observed the nearly dark room. "I'll see what I can do." He said, putting goggles on. "This will take a while."

"You better hurry, we only have you for a day and a half now."

...

Liz frowned. "If I'm not that interesting to listen to, you can leave you know?"

Emilia jumped, eyes wide as she turned to face Liz. "Oh, sorry. Had a long night." She lied.

"Oh? What's wrong?"

The blonde sighed. "Can I trust you?"

"You always can." Liz smiled.

"I don't like who Molly's spending her time with."

Liz raised her eyebrows. "Tom? What's wrong with him?"

"He's her ex-fiance. Also, she's pregnant and practically engaged to another man." Emilia sighed, shaking her head. "I think there's more to Tom than he's letting on..."

"She knows what she's doing," Liz assured her colleague. "I don't think this 'Tom' guy will even stick around, especially when it's so evidently close to her due date. I mean, who wants to father another man's children?"

Emilia agreed, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you. I just want to be a good friend to her and her almost husband."

"You're a great friend. I think we should hush now."

"Why?" Emilia frowned.

Liz looked down. "I don't think Mr Hamilton would appreciate us catching him eavesdropping."

Emilia almost rolled on the floor in laughter once she realised that their conversation had taken place on top of a dead corpse.

"You're a strange one, Liz."

Once they were finished examining and performing their pathologist's report, Emilia cleaned up and returned to the staff room to see Molly alone, frowning down at her phone.

"Hey, you." Emilia grinned, noticing the lack of Tom's presence.

Molly hissed as she placed a hand on her stomach before looking up with a bright smile.

"You and Liz took ages!" Molly noted, placing her phone away. "I'm getting these horrible false contractions and I wondered if you could drive me home since my car's getting serviced and my driver's bailed."

"Driver, hmm? Being the sister-in-law of the government has its perks, doesn't it?" Emilia smirked, grabbing her things from her locker. "I'll drop you off, no problem."

Molly winced. "You'll come back here, won't you? Sorry, if its inconvenient..."

Emilia shook her blonde curls. "No, no. Liz has got me covered for the rest of the day. Now I can plan your baby shower."

"Is that a thing?" Molly wearily asked as her friend grinned at her. "Well, okay then."

Emilia giggled, leading the way out of the building, stopping to scan their IDs with approving looks from the security guard as Molly once forgot to do so due to a doctor's check up and had alarmed the whole building due to a false fire alarm.

"Have you spoken to baby daddy lately?" Emilia asked once they had driven away from the building.

Molly shook her head. "I'm still figuring things out. Why? Have you spoken to him?"

"No. I barely know the guy but out of the blue, I get a text asking how you are..." The blonde pathologist lied easily.

The brunette pathologist blushed. "Sorry, he's a bit... forward sometimes. I swear, I didn't give him your number."

"I figured, don't worry. Well, you better talk to him or at least get him off my back." Emilia teased. "Wouldn't want the whole of Britain knowing their beloved detective is a two-timing cheat."

Molly scoffed. "Sherlock? A two-timing cheat? Barely has time for one relationship or knows how to keep one."

"Says you, Miss Pregnant." Emilia retorted lightly. "I'm up for a coffee, how about you?"

"I could eat a muffin. Oh, I really want to try Chipotle. Never had it and it's not in England so I don't know the hype."

"Me neither. We can both try it together."

...

Rhys stood up. "Traces of blood lining the area where the carpet was."

"Where can a carpet be? Woods? Garage?"

Rhys shrugged. "Highly doubt it would be in the woods since Miami is mainly beaches but a large dense area with lots of sand surrounding it? Could be a perfect place to act as a transport for a body and a burial sheet."

"Judging by the marks, could this carpet roll a woman?"

Hodgson gulped, wearily looking outside to see John's shadow pacing outside. "A child, maybe. If it was a woman then the carpet would have only been used as a primary scene of murder."

"But a woman could easily pass the weight of an overgrown child?" Sherlock mused.

"From the files I've read, the woman was 5'4. The carpet would have reached her neck at least." Rhys replied, heading over to his kit. "I'll take a sample of the blood and send it to Liz. Emilia's off for the day."

Sherlock's interest peaked. "Why?"

"Molly had twinges so Emilia dropped her off home. When are you coming to visit exactly?"

"When I've solved this case. This is for Molly."

Rhys rolled his eyes. "I know but do you have to ignore her?"

Sherlock turned away, letting John back inside. "You'll see that it is Molly who is doing the ignoring, Hodgson." He muttered darkly before collecting his jacket and walking out the archway. "I'll be in the garage."

John frowned. "What's up with him?"

"Molly."

He clicked his tongue. "Ah. So, what did you find that you locked me out for?"

Rhys chuckled, telling John of their findings.

...

Sherlock looked through the boxes, finding one littered with old and recent photos. He found one of what must have been a young and innocent Molly, smiling adoringly up at her brother, Harry which was short for Harold, he found out.

Another box was filled with diary entries, immediately going to more recent posts, Sherlock noticed signs of hysteria and paranoia laced with scraggly writing always signed 'Harold - I always hated that name'.

"A man with a distaste for his name, goes by 'Harry'. Just like Watson's sister. What's so wrong about longer versions of Harry? Then again, I hate William." He mumbled.

An entry caught him off guard. It mentioned not paying a certain debt to a British-American loan shark who threatened his family. This said loan shark was his wife's boss and there was threats to his wife if he told her anything. But the reason to take the children was still off.

Herrera entered. "Your guy told me he found something. I guess I should turn this case over to you."

"That would do." Sherlock replied. "I'm taking these..." He added, distractedly.

"Whatever."

As the lieutenant left, Sherlock hoisted three boxes on top of each other and opened the garage door, taking his time to place each box in the car which was driven by George - his new orders from Mycoft to _not_ talk to Sherlock. Coming to the last box, the first one he found with the photo of Harry and Molly, Sherlock saw a recent photo of the same living room in the house.

It had an embroidered carpet, a rare one at that, and a curtain over the archway. No wonder there were curtain rings...

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock raised his head ever so slightly. "What, Watson?"

"What have you found?" John asked.

Sherlock turned to face John. "This carpet is a rare carpet. There was also a curtain from the archway. We're missing a curtain _and_ a carpet."

"So...?"

"We're going furniture shopping."


	19. You're Always Right

The door rang as Sherlock, John and Rhys entered.

"Antiques... Nothing scares me more..." Rhys mumbled, shivering when he came into contact with a taxidermy.

The shop owner beamed at them, making her way over with her arms wide. "How can I help you, fine gentlemen, today?"

Sherlock donned a dazzling smile, clasping his hands together. "We're looking for a gift for my dear aunt. She's recently moved and unfortunately, a couple of the movers ruined her curtains and carpet and they were heirlooms..."

The woman frowned in sympathy. "Oh dear. I've had the same problems with these van removal people. They broke my vase once! Do you have a photo of how they look so we can get something similar?"

John took the enhanced photo from before, handing it over to the woman.

"Oh, sweet children! Is that you?"

Sherlock faltered slightly. "Oh, yes. My cousin and I, in fact. We've always remembered the curtains and carpet."

She smiled, nodding before going off to search for the items.

"What makes you so sure it's here?" Rhys asked.

"There are only twenty of this kind of style in the world. This woman had all of them since it was her husband who embroidered them thirty years ago before his tragic death in a car accident. If we ask her who from the Coopers bought it the first time, we'll be able to trace our missing curtain and carpet from there."

John shook his head. "I still do not get it but I've learned now not to question your methods."

The woman returned, a rolled up material under her armpit. "Here's the curtain. The last carpet was actually bought a week ago."

Sherlock turned to John with a condescending smile, enough to make his friend roll his eyes. "Oh. Well, I guess it doesn't matter too much. I will probably just get her a modern carpet and curtain set instead if that is limited."

"I hope she likes it. Seems like she was too fond of this style."

"I don't know when she bought it exactly."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "I can check for you?"

Sherlock gasped, smiling brightly. "You will? Oh, thank you. It was thirty years ago."

"I've got paper records from then, not to worry."

She gestured for them to follow her to the checkout desk, collecting a large binder full of old pages. She scanned through the sheets and stopped at the right time. "Name?"

Sherlock stumbled, turning to face his associates. He was about to answer when Rhys stepped in instead.

"Eloise Cooper."

The woman clicked her tongue and nodded. "Yeah, right here. Seems like she was a frequent buyer. Bought an original dining set as well. You know what? Someone with the same surname came in asking for the same carpet and curtain last week. They'd bought the last carpet."

"Who was it?" John asked.

"You British folk get straight to it, don't you?" She chuckled, logging into the server of her computer. "A _Harold Cooper_. He also talked of Eloise."

Sherlock feigned a sigh of relief. "He must be surprising her. He always likes to get one up on me, my dear cousin, Harold."

"I'm guessing you British migrated here to the States?"

"Oh no. We're living in the UK," he gestured to them three. "But we're here for my aunt's birthday. She lives here as well as my cousin who recently returned back here despite being born and bred in England by his father. My uncle's and my aunt's marriage didn't last too long."

The woman. "Ah, well there must be another gift you can get her?"

His phone bleeped. "Now, _that_ is my backup gift. Thank you very much for your time... Greta."

Greta beamed, waving them out of the shop.

"Twenty minutes for a roundabout thing?" Rhys mumbled, getting into the car. "You owe me a coffee. I hate taxidermies..."

Sherlocked shrugged. "Grew up with them."

"Is Greta sure that it was Harry? Why didn't you ask for CCTV footage?" John asked.

"There is none. Not in the store at least but look over there." He discreetly nudged his head to the direction of the next door gas station. "Four cameras, two functioning and one of them have direct view of this store. I'll call Mycroft."

...

Molly hummed. "Uh, Em?"

"Yes?" Emilia asked, sipping on her iced tea as she continued to drive through the streets of Florida, trying to find a way to Molly's house without the use of a SATNAV.

"Can you take a detour to the hospital. This one in fact?" She asked, typing the address in the SATNAV.

Emilia chuckled, placing her drink down in the cup holder to use both hands to make a U-Turn. "Why?"

"Because these babies want to come. They want to come _now._ " Molly replied as calmly as she could.

Emilia's eyes widened as she cursed lightly under breath, apologising once she saw Molly's disapproving glare. "Okay, breathe through the contractions and count-"

"I know what to do!" Molly squealed, gripping the armrest.

"Of course you do... Do you want me to call someone? Anyone?"

Molly's eyes narrowed. "If you mean Sherlock then no. He's in London, anyway."

Emilia nodded. "Yeah... he is. So, big brother then?"

"Mycroft's in France."

"You know this because?"

Molly winced. "I spoke to your sister."

"Huh. You know Anthea?" Emilia gripped the wheel as she went around a roundabout. "We're quite estranged you know? I haven't even got her number."

"I know," Molly breathed out. She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut as she went through another contraction. "It's too early. I'm seven months gone!"

Emilia frowned when she realised that it was true. Indeed, only seven months. "Maybe it's Braxton Hicks?"

"These feel too real..." Molly shook her head. "Your sister is Mycroft's assistant."

"Huh. She always did need a man to keep her grounded despite being the older sister."

Molly shrugged, opening her eyes. "She's wonderful. She's been a great help to me throughout the years."

"I miss her."

"Why did you guys end up becoming estranged?"

Emilia kept her eyes on the road. "My husband. She despised him because he was from a wealthy background. His parents used and abused people just like they did to their eldest son's wife once they found out she had money. She was afraid of me getting hurt but I still chose him. He never spoke to his parents after the day we married. He solely loved me but by then, Anthea had disappeared. Just like when we were kids."

"She came back?"

"Only briefly. Told me her boss told her about my husband's family. She wanted to warn me but she knew the damage between us was too great. Estranged as children affected us."

The pain suddenly stopped and Molly frowned. "You were right."

Emilia smiled. "Told you."

"You're always right and I hate that," Molly grinned.


	20. Disbelief

Molly sat in front of Emilia, making the blonde raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "So..., since Rhys is back soon, I was thinking of going back to London to just check on things." She had not been getting visits from Mycroft as much as she'd like to and Sherlock had been ignoring her for a little while. Something was up and it was starting to become quite worrying. She had even tried getting hold of John but his line was also busy. Mrs Hudson had written to her during her monthly letters that she was away on a cruise with a girl pal and their toy boys. Thinking about that made Molly cringe.

"Check on what things exactly?"

"Oh, you know. How St. Bart's is doing, especially Mike Stamford. Well, how everyone's doing really." Molly twisted the ring around her finger, biting her lip.

Emilia sighed. "By 'everyone' you mean Sherlock Holmes?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "Molly, you're nearing the end of your pregnancy, you can't just go jetting off all the time."

Molly replied with her own sigh, rubbing her head. "I know... But something in me is telling me to go home earlier. I had planned to give birth in England so what's one month not spent waiting?"

"But you were planning to go with the presence of a doctor. You can't just book a flight alone!" Emilia shook her head. "Molly, please."

"I can call Sherlock's brother and arrange something."

Emilia placed her book down. "We literally had a labour scare and you still want to put yourself through more stress, not even a couple of days after?"

"Yes."

"Then fine, there's no convincing you." Emilia chuckled, shaking her head. "But at least wait until Rhys is back for a couple of days. We're kind of backed up at the moment."

Molly accepted. "Agreed. Fair enough." She stood back up. "I have to pop home for a little bit. I forgot to feed Toby."

"I wish we could have him to cuddle up with here."

Molly chuckled, nodding. "Same, me too."

...

John leant over Sherlock's shoulder, getting a better view of the screen as Rhys took to the sociopath's other shoulder.

"Well?"

"It's Harry."

The doctor nodded, standing straight and crossing his arms. "So, what happens now? Rhys is going back today and we're nowhere close to figuring this out and we have four days left."

Sherlock quickly tapped away on his phone, sending a message as he studied the screen again. "I'm waiting on a text message."

"Well, your bills are going to be ridiculous after this." Rhys slipped his jacket on, heading for the door. "I have a four-hour drive ahead of me. I'm going to go but you better update me on the case."

Sherlock turned his head to the side so his ear was in the direction Rhys stood. "You needn't worry. We are coming down in two days. That is when this case will be solved."

Rhys clicked his tongue. "Thanks, mate."

Once he had left, John sat down beside the curious security guard. "So, how long have you been in this line of work for?"

"You British are strange."

"We get that a lot," Sherlock agreed, his phone beeping. "Ah. Watson, onto our next stop."

John had halted when he realised that they were now at the pier. A silver-haired man stood watching the sea as Sherlock strolled up to him, giving him a nod and receiving one in return.

Sherlock turned to the man. "So, you've been following him?"

"He was a person of interest, Sherlock. Had I known the family relations, I wouldn't have bothered. Hooper was an excellent agent and I had needed a favour dealing with some breaches."

"Sherrinford..."

Sherrinford turned to his younger brother. "Harry and I were in the Secret Service together. He was a good accomplice. Listened well and was very obedient. When I retired, he decided to retire to despite the fact he still had his good years ahead of him. The man who killed the woman wrapped up in his carpet was a Russian ally spy who had instead betrayed our trust. I had him dealt with whilst Harry had the woman dealt with. None of us killed this innocent woman but the man, we do take the blame for. The Russian tried to frame him by killing the woman here, in Harry's holiday home. I can make all of this go away but I must find Harry first. His children are at risk as well as his estranged wife."

"I have a feeling I know where he is."

...

Molly walked through the door, placing her keys on the counter as she spoke to Emilia on the phone.

Once she finally looked up, she gasped, dropping her phone.

"Oh! Hello... And who might you two darlings be?"

The two children looked up. The eldest spoke. A girl. "I'm Simone. This is my little brother Nigel."

Molly's heart beat loudly in her ear. "Well, do you guys know that you are in my home? Do you guys have a home?"

Simone shook her head. "Not anymore. Dad says we were compromised."

"And how old are you, Simone?"

"Sixteen. Nigel's ten."

Molly nodded, picking her phone up. "Emilia... I'm going to have to call you back." She ended the call and quickly dialled another number. "Mycroft!"

She was silenced by a mouth going over her mouth, her eyes widening as her phone was taken from her hand.

"Please, do not freak out." She heard from behind her. "I am going to turn you around now. Do not scream."

Molly nodded, her eyes trained on the two anxious children.

She was slowly turned, her hand going to rest protectively on her stomach. Once her eyes reached her unexpected gift, they widened again.

"Harry?!"

"Hey, big sis." Harry took a deep breath, letting her go and cancelling the call before placing the phone on the counter by her keys. "I need a place to stay. I see you've met my kids. They're good kids." He seemed out of breath, something Molly noticed. He was also pale.

"Harry... What on Earth?" She breathed out. "I haven't seen you since you were fourteen!"

Nigel stood up, immediately going to his father to press his hand on his chest. "Auntie Molly..." Molly's eyes found his. "Daddy's been shot."

"You what now?!"

Harry chuckled nervously, gently pushing his son away. "Nothing major... Just a little-"

And he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Molly just watched in disbelief.


	21. Blink Once, Pinch Twice

"Italy, Mrs Hudson?!"

Sherlock glanced up. "What is she doing there?"

John held a finger up to him. "What are you doing there?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His fingers itched to text someone. Anyone. He couldn't text Mycroft as the eldest Holmes child had stressed on a call that he was _unfortunately severely busy_ before hanging up just as quick as he had called.

So much for big brother's watching.

Rosie coughed from her car seat and Sherlock placed a hand on her head. "You're burning up."

"Icky..."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't say my darling. We'll be in Orlando soon. Just an hour and fifteen minutes left."

Rosie nodded as if she understood anything he had just said and settled for closing her eyes. "I ti-yed."

"Then you sleep, my dear Rosamund."

John turned to face him, placing his phone on his shoulder. "What's wrong with her?" He frowned, glancing at his daughter.

"A premature cold, Watson. She will be fine." The child's godfather assured him, pulling her blanket to her chin for good measure.

John nodded, placing the phone back on his ear as he waited for Mrs Hudson to stop pestering a hotel worker about a glass of their most expensive Chardonnay wine. "Oh, Italy because that is where Mrs Hudson's at for a childhood friend's eight wedding."

"By the end of next year, she'll have her ninth," Sherlock told him, picking his phone back up.

"How do you know?"

"Money. And the fact that she thinks of herself as some attractive cougar."

John grinned, continuing to talk to Mrs Hudson. "She says that there's a toy boy who seems interested in her friend."

"Hence, husband number nine," Sherlock confirmed.

...

Mycroft unlocked the door and entered, spotting Molly finishing an expertly done stitch.

"I came as soon as I could. I was in the country anyway."

She nodded, sighing as she struggled to get back up which Mycroft quickly aided her.

"I must inform you. My brothers are on their way."

Molly frowned. "Sherrinford and Sherlock? But why?"

He glanced at her unconscious brother who laid on the table. "He's caused a lot of trouble. His identity has been compromised."

"Compromised?"

"Secret Service. _Ex-_ Secret Service, Dr Hooper."

"So why-"

"Sherlock has taken the case after your estranged sister-in-law thought he'd abducted their children. He knows the connection now. He's on his way. And Sherrinford? He's hoping to get to your brother before to secure their mission breach. Both are coming for different reasons. That is why he has to leave. I have arranged for a flight to leave in an hour so he must go."

Molly breathed out, shocked. "I... Sherlock's coming?"

"He has been planning to visit especially since this case took him to the States. Molly, I hope you'd listen and let me salvage your brother's reputation. Sherrinford is more likely to kill him to 'fix the breach' and Sherlock's going to use him as a way to regain your trust. He will use this as a way to get to your children."

The door behind them opened and Simone and Nigel entered, eyes wide at Mycroft. "You called someone?!" She immediately pulled her brother behind her.

Mycroft tutted. "She had called my name out in an abrupt call. I was concerned for the welfare of my sister-in-law."

Simone's eyes widened. "You're married?" She glanced down at the ring on her aunt's ring finger. Why hadn't she noticed that significant little detail?

"Uh," Molly's eyes darted between Mycroft and her niece and nephew. "His brother is the reason why" she pointed to her stomach. "This happened."

Nigel retreated back into his sister's side and stared at the adults. "Will our dad be taken away from us?"

"No! No... Look, he has to talk to someone about what happened here back home in England but you will be with your mum."

"Mum's coming?"

Molly glanced at Mycroft who nodded. "Yes, and she will look after you whilst your dad is away. You'll be a family again once all this misunderstanding is sorted, my lovelies."

Mycroft impatiently checked his watch sighing as he realised that an hour had changed into fifty-four minutes. "Right, we must get you children and your father on that flight. Wake him up."

Simone nudged her father's arm, making him moan and open his eyes, reaching out to take Molly's hand. "Is it over, sis? Did you do it? Has the bleeding stopped?"

"Yes." Molly nodded. "You need to leave." She withdrew her hand.

Harry sat up and faced her, alarmed that a man was standing behind her. "Mycroft. Long time no see."

"Harry." Mycroft acknowledged.

"Can't say it's good to see you again." Harry sighed.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Sherrinford enthuses about your capability-"

"But there's a chance that he's coming to 'deal' with me?" Harry cut him off.

The eldest Holmes child nodded. "I have arranged a flight under false names. Seriously, you must leave with the children Let them go back to their mother and sort out this mess."

It didn't take long for Mycroft to leave, her brother and his children fleeing with him back to London. Back to safety. To secure the breach. She knew that once Sherrinford had realised the slight betrayal of his older brother and possibly his younger brother, he'd go for blood.

She didn't know much about the second eldest child of the Holmes but she knew that although he put himself forward as a lovely, caring chap, he was the most ruthless of them all. He wasn't afraid of backstabbing his family in the back or even his friends. Ex-comrades. Possibly even his country. No-one trusted Sherrinford and he had loved Eurus so much that he'd allowed her frequent days away from the island she stayed trapped on. Allowed her to waltz through the streets of London, confusing their intoxicated brother. Next to Eurus, Sherrinford was the least loved child of the Holmes.

As she was about to step into her bubble bath to shake the events of her recent ordeal away, the doorbell went.

Groaning, she put her robe on and waddled outside the bathroom into her bedroom before stepping into the main room.

Opening the door, she was shocked to see the two men she valued most in her life. Even before her brother.

"Hello, Molly."

Blinking once to make sure that it was real and pinching her hand twice to prove the first sign. She replied, "Sherlock."


	22. Thrilled to Have You Come Home

**More of a filler chapter. Enjoy nonetheless :)**

* * *

His eyes are warm. They take her in, her breathtaking beauty glowing before him.

"Molly." He just says.

Molly shifted, turning to face John who carried a sleeping Rosie. It was then she'd realised that they had suitcases on the ground by their feet.

"Co-Come in, John. My bedroom's down the hall, you can put Rosie there in my bed."

John nodded, mutely going past Molly and heading to her bedroom. Sherlock just stood there, waiting for her to welcome him in as well.

"You can enter too." She couldn't dare to say his name again

"Are you sure?" His eyes questioned her but she turned around to head to her kitchen.

Not wanting to cause a scene as some of her neighbours were becoming interested in him, he simply took the suitcases and Rosie's nappy bag before going inside and closing the door behind him with a _beep_.

"The house seems secure."

Molly nodded, sipping her glass of water as her other hand rubbed her stomach gently in circles. "It is. High tech security system, pin entry and around the clock CCTV. It came with a lifetime guarantee."

Sherlock nodded, watching and John reentered the living room/kitchen area.

"It's a lovely place, Molly."

"Thanks, John." She cleared her throat. "How did you find me? Why are you here?"

Sherlock's phone beeped.

 ** _You have one new message from: EA_**

 **From: EA**

 **Please don't tell me you're in Florida. With Molly...**

 **To: EA**

 **Smith.**

 **From: EA**

 **Excuse me?**

 **To: EA**

 **I got your number from your sister, Anthea Smith.**

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, ignoring the constant beeping which will probably consist of swearing and insults.

"I'm surprised that my brother did not do much to hide your whereabouts. I had some business here in the States but I was planning to come and see you before you came back to London to give birth."

"What business?" Molly asked, crossing her arms.

Sherlock bowed his head, smiling when Toby wrapped himself around his legs. "I found your brother. Well, I didn't find him but I saved him."

"How?" Molly breathed out.

"I called Mycroft," Sherlock said. "From there, we both guessed that he came here." He glanced down at the ground where a small splat of blood was on the couch, enough to make it look innocent like ketchup. "I had him prepare a flight to safely take them back to London where the children will return to their mother."

Molly sighed. "You've got me." She kicked the sofa. "Noticeable?"

"Very," John said, getting a glare from her. "I'll stay with Rosie."

"Wise decision," Sherlock told him, sitting down as John left the room. "You look as beautiful as ever."

Molly blushed, annoyed at the fact that he still held some sort of hold over her. "You can stay for the night but then you'll have to go."

"That was the plan. We're leaving tomorrow night."

"Oh."

Sherlock nodded. "Indeed."

She sat down and leant back. "You want to feel? Since you won't be here for long."

Sherlock frowned. "Do you want me to?"

"They're yours but..."

"Then no. Not until you're comfortable with it. I need to go somewhere quickly."

She nodded, "Bye."

Sherlock left quickly, not even bothering to bid John farewell for the meantime.

He took an Uber to Molly's place of work and waited until Emilia was finished with her work and leaving with Rhys.

"If it isn't our favourite detective," Rhys grinned. "Come to see me?"

"No, Emilia."

Emilia glared at him, telling Rhys to get his car out front. "What?"

"I want to apologise. I promise not to hurt Molly. You have to understand my position here. She's having my children yet I cannot be there for her. Every missed doctor's appointment, antenatal sessions..."

Emilia's eyes softened. "She was planning to go home to you." She confessed.

"She hates me. I somehow doubt that."

The blonde gave him a sad smile. "Keep trying, Holmes. Oh and thanks. I got in touch with my sister and well, we're planning to see each other soon."

"Good." He turned around. "Goodbye Emilia."

John and Molly were laughing when she answered the door to let Sherlock come back in.

"Ah, I miss Mrs Hudson!"

John chuckled. "Well, we miss her too." He sipped his tea. "You're back. You disappeared."

"Made a few quick stops." Sherlock raised a bag full of items. "For you, Molly."

"Thanks." She mumbled, opening the bag. Inside were baby items. "For the twins, you mean?" She chuckled.

He nodded. "I had a contact through my mother. Only the best for my children."

Molly smiled, kissing his cheek. "I was thinking of coming back to London sooner rather than later. I could go with you guys tomorrow?"

John and Sherlock shared a glance before turning back to Molly.

"Molly, we would be thrilled to have you come home." John beamed.


	23. She Looked Into His Eyes

"You won't bloody believe it!"

It was her last day there for the moment in time and she couldn't go without giving Emilia one last chance of gossip.

Emilia raised her eyebrow, a curious smirk playing on the corner of her lips. "What?"

Molly sighed before groaning in frustration and sighing again in defeat. "Sherlock's here. In Miami. With John and Rosie and they're staying in my spare bedrooms!"

The blonde stopped analysing the piece of evidence they were investigating and turned to Molly, feigning shock. "Here? At yours? Bloody hell, Molly."

"I know!" Molly said, snapping her latex gloves off as she threw them away and headed to the exit. "The bad thing is... they're looking for someone." She took her lab coat off and sighed. "My brother... Hurry up as much as you can and meet me in the staffroom. Where's is Rhys anyway? Hiya, Liz!" The brunette suddenly called as she left Emilia flabbergasted and Liz alarmed when she waddled to catch up to her.

"Dr Hooper, how may I be of help?"

Molly hesitated, stopping when Liz came to a halt to turn to face her. "You know your contact in England?"

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Which one? I have many."

"That doctor at St. Bart's."

"Ah, Jeremy Calhoun. Yes, why?"

Molly smiled but it still came out nervously. "I'm wondering if he could be at my discretion. I have a family situation and I need someone who wouldn't ask any questions. You said he could help in ways."

Dr Fontaine glowered at Molly, her short height doing so much as to make the young woman blush with embarrassment.

"Forget I said anything."

"No, no. He is very discreet at what he does out of the hospital. I'll make contact and give him your name and number. He will call when he is available."

"Can it be soon? Like, today or tomorrow? Preferably today?"

Liz sighed. "I'll get right on it. It will be around six in the evening in England. I'll speak to you later."

Molly released the breath of air she held and turned around to spot Rhys coming in with his biking gear on.

"Hoopy-Molly!" He called out, smiling. "How are you?"

Molly chuckled, crossing her arms. "I'm good. How was the bike hike?"

"Great. I feel like my personal matters away took a lot out of me. It was nice to get back into my routine." Rhys took his helmet off and followed her into the staffroom where he accepted her offer of tea. "Make it green, please. I've been a little naughty whilst I was away."

She chuckled. "I'd imagine so! Your great aunt must have buttered you up."

"Hmm, yeah. She had all kinds of meat and fruit and drinks." Rhys hesitated. "She's like that."

"One to make a buffet?"

"Hmm-hmm. Yep. Uh, I'm going to have a shower and change, can you put that on me desk, please?"

Molly narrowed her eyes. "Oh yeah. Then you can tell me what you really were doing in Miami."

Rhys stopped by the door, the sliding doors unsure of whether to open or close and moved stuck in limbo as they failed to make up their mind. "What I really was doing?"

"Yes, Rhys. With Sherlock Holmes. Don't worry, he gave me a full account but I'm willing to hear your part."

With that she slammed his cup of green tea on the table and walked out, returning to her duties with Emilia.

...

Sherlock tapped away on his phone, ignoring the death threats from Rhys via text once he realised that Molly had told him she knew what happened. Honesty was always the best policy.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, Watson?"

"Do you know where the spare towels are?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning to face the hallway where the spare bathroom was. "No."

He heard John mutter "Some help you are!" under his breath as he turned his attention to Rosie who was babbling about some ducks and a tea party.

He then focused on the pictures around the room. There were photos of Molly and her colleagues and dear friends on top of the fireplace and he was surprised to see that one of him, John, Mary and Rosie had made it. But other than that, they were mostly of Emilia and Rhys and the occasional one of her colleagues back in St. Barts.

Sherlock stood up, making his way to the stainless steel fridge where more photos littered the surface but they were different. He smiled when Rosie toddled up to him and pulled his trouser leg, allowing him to pick her up to show her the photos. "These are sonograms. They show people where babies are."

Rosie pressed her stubby little hands on the recent sonogram in glee. "Babies! One... Two... Babies!"

Sherlock chuckled, nodding at her. "Yes, dear Rosamund. Aunt Molly's having twins. We're having twins. Can you believe that Uncle Sherlock's going to be a dad himself? Hmm?"

"Nooooo!" Rosie said flabbergasted. "Baby in Unc's tummy?!"

"Oh, no. The babies are in Aunt Molly's tummy. Uncle Sherlock put them there."

The toddler seemed pleased and he was relieved when she didn't ask how or why. She struggled out of his grip and went to collect Ducky and Lamby before sitting by the TV in peace.

Sherlock took the time to read his brother's message over and over again.

 **From MH:**

 **Safe. Work things out with her.**

It took him a while to reply, the photos on the fridge plaguing his mind full of happy memories that he wished would come true.

 **To MH:**

 **Many thanks. I will try.**

Sherlock Holmes never _tried_. He just did. But something told him that Molly wouldn't be too willing to forgive him just yet.

The front door opened at around five in the evening, Rosie had been put down for a nap and Sherlock and John were disinterestedly watching the TV.

"Hey. I have some takeaway." Molly placed the containers on the counter before taking her coat off and hanging it by the door. "Where's Rosie?"

John stood up to help her with her bag. "Asleep."

"Ah."

"She'll be awake within an hour or so."

Sherlock glanced back, Molly's face unreadable. "We need to talk?"

She nodded, glaring at him. "We do. I want answers."

John glanced at Sherlock before looking at Molly. "I will, uh... Take these," he took his order. "And go and sit with Rosie. I think she's calling me."

There wasn't any call for any fathers but John quickly left down the hall, closing the door behind him.

"Molly..."

"Start from the beginning."

And so he went on to explain everything in such great detail, he had taken two hours to finish the story from start to finish. He'd apologised many times and Molly had shrugged nonchalantly.

"You used my brother to get to me."

"I needed to see you, to see them. To know that you were okay. I... wanted us to be together, properly."

Molly sighed. "I told you I needed time. Oh, you've gone and ruined it all!"

"Ruined what?"

She bit her lip, rubbing her stomach as she glanced upwards through her lashes at him. "I was meant to surprise _you_. You arsehole had to go and do this and ruin my plan. I was coming back home to go into labour and... I wanted to surprise you with their birth. I wanted the first time that we'd seen each other in ages to be our children's birthday but you bloody went and ruined my plan. I was even getting so homesick that I told Emilia that I wanted to come earlier but she'd managed to stop me. Was that you? Did she know you were here?"

"No," Sherlock paused. "I only asked if Rhys was available."

"Ah, so you needed Rhys' help as a forensic analyst."

"I didn't bring my own. Mycroft told me your brother's safe. Your niece and nephew are with their mother in a safe house. We, however, do not know what Sherrinford wishes to do with him."

Molly nodded. "Do you know their history?"

"Briefly. I did not even know that they'd worked together in the Secret Service. I'm sure Mycroft knew though, nothing gets past him but things get passed me."

Molly sighed, playing with a throw pillow beside her. "I believe you. So, what do we do now?"

"You come home, Molly with John, Rosie and I tomorrow and we raise our family together."

And she looked into his eyes and smiled. He was being sincere.


End file.
